Descent into Darkness: The Sacrifice for Salvation
by Ariel D
Summary: Story 6. “Compassion can save your soul. Or damn your body.”—Jarlaxle. What will be the price of defeating Mordecai and the Kagaor ki Tamal? Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Descent into Darkness: The Sacrifice for Salvation**

By Ariel

_Description: "Compassion can save your soul. Or damn your body."—Jarlaxle. What will be the price of defeating Mordecai and the Kagaor ki Tamal? Drama/Angst/Action. Rated R for violence and mature subject matter. _

Disclaimer: Jarlaxle, Artemis Entreri, and all other recognizable characters belong to R. A. Salvatore and Wizards of the Coast. No challenge to the copyright is intended or should be inferred. Tai and Nyx, of course, are mine, as are all poems and quotes of poetry.

A/N: This is a continuation of "The Gathering Storm" and begins immediately after its last line. You are free to read this story as a stand-alone, but I don't recommend it. If you do decide to start here, I warn you that Entreri and Jarlaxle have undergone character development beyond where they are in "Empty Joys;" also, I ask that you be patient with the returning original characters.

This fanfic refers to the story "The Third Level" from Realms of Infamy,_ in which we learn that as a child, Entreri was sexually abused. Please remember that I have chosen not to include the events of "Wickless in the Nether" or _POTWK_ in my fanfic universe; therefore, _Descent into Darkness_ is categorized as mildly AU and rests heavily on the background provided by _SotS,_ "That Curious Sword," and "Empty Joys."_

* * *

**Blinded Eyes**

A truth dwells in fiction,  
A mirror for all life.  
A fiction dwells in truth,  
When seen by many eyes.  
Which version do we hold inside?  
Can we see past our self-lies?  
What we seek is not proof.  
The answer lies inside.

**Prologue**

_The mirror, the legendary _Kagaor ki Tamal,_ glittered in front of Mordecai, untarnished by the wear of countless ages, seeping with the force and strength that he desired to wield. The cleric could feel the wash of its magic around him, engulfing him, until all the cleric could hear was the throbbing of his own blood in his veins. Trembling with anticipation, Mordecai closed his eyes and, with outstretched arms, touched the mirror with his fingertips. _

The world seemed to stop as he pulled the artifact from the wall. The mirror released an explosion of white light, piercing the room and the eyes of the soldiers. He heard Vren scream in agony, felt_ as the other soldiers fell to their knees in pain. With the light came another form of sight, a vision that wrapped about his mind, granting him sight from blindness. The power of the _Kagaor ki Tamal_ was laid bare before him; he only need take it. _

Unflinching even as his body was wracked with a strange and foreign torture of its own, Mordecai forced himself to look into the radiance, to embrace what was being given to him. The light began to fade then, but Mordecai knew better than to think it gone. He could feel it within him, ready to be unleashed on anyone who chose to oppose him and his masked god. A cry rose in his throat, transforming fast into a bark of laughter that echoed around the room, filling it with sound even as the light extinguished.

Let it begin.

* * *

**Chapter 1 **

"_Blinded Eyes"_

Magical torches lit the dusty chamber, revealing a vaulted ceiling, tattered banners, and broken pieces of wooden furniture strewn across the flagstones. A musty, thick stench hung in the stale air, created by moss, ivy, mold, and old dirt. However, the cleric Mordecai hardly noticed his dim, dank surroundings, for he held in his hands an item about which he'd spent _decades_ dreaming.

"One supposes you are quite proud of yourself," called a female voice.

Mordecai, still standing by the half-blinded Vren, whirled toward the doorway to see Chalithra, the eldest daughter of House Tuin'Tarl and his oft-times tormentor. Graceful and round-figured, Chalithra was a picture of drow beauty: free-flowing white hair, aristocratic features, and toned muscles. Of course, like most things beautiful among the drow, Chalithra was dangerous and vicious, taking great pleasure in whipping males to death—or in Mordecai's case, near death.

Chalithra stepped into the room, her four-headed snake whip writhing in her grasp. Mordecai sneered at the irony: although Chalithra worshipped a spider demon, she carried a snake whip. Likewise, although Mordecai worshipped a rogue, he wielded a mirror made by sentient snakes. Life did have its little amusements.

Chalithra's entrance was followed closely by another—a single-soldier escort. Mordecai glanced with suspicion at the three Tuin'Tarl soldiers who were only now recovering their sight, and his Matron Mother Prid'eesoth's plan was suddenly obvious to him. Or, rather, his supposed Matron Mother, for the lot was getting ready to learn just how poor their skills of intrigue really were.

"Quite proud," Mordecai finally answered, sauntering down the ramp. Predictably, Vren didn't follow, and the cleric wondered if he'd choose to side with Chalithra. "After all, I met my objective despite all interference."

"_Your_ objective?" Chalithra repeated with a smirk.

"Yes, mine," Mordecai stated boldly. "My objective to attain a powerful magic item for the glory and success of Vhaeraun." The cleric had to laugh, then, for Chalithra's look of offense and outrage was of comical proportions: her nose scrunched up, her eyes narrowed, and she bared her teeth like an animal.

"I will twist you into a drider for this," the priestess hissed, "or perhaps sacrifice you on an altar to Lolth."

"Unlikely," Mordecai replied with a touch of boredom, "for not only are you out of your element and in mine, I wield the mirror your Matron Mother sought so desperately."

Chalithra tilted her head and smiled. "Your treachery was expected, of course, which is why we sent you the escort and why I, myself, was sent to collect the mirror once you'd done the grunt work."

At this, the three Tuin'Tarl soldiers who had accompanied Mordecai and Vren straightened their postures. Mordecai glanced up at Vren, who still remained at the top of the altar. Obviously sweating, the Secondboy wrung his luxurious braid in his hands; the cleric decided he'd never seen anyone so afraid and briefly wondered if Vren had soiled himself. Mordecai laughed and turned back to Chalithra.

"The grunt work?" the cleric replied. "There's a problem with using slaves to do all your work: at some point, the slaves rebel and either destroy or steal whatever resources have been placed in their care."

Chalithra snarled at the blasphemy and raised her whip. The battle had begun.

* * *

Carefully hidden in the shadows of the entryway beyond, Jarlaxle, Entreri, Tai, and Nyx watched the confrontation between Mordecai and the Tuin'Tarl priestess. Since Tai and Nyx couldn't speak Drow, only Entreri and Jarlaxle followed the conversation, but the scenario was obvious to any onlooker. 

"Although the concept of luck pales in comparison to the might of Hoar, I have to admit luck is on our side," Tai noted darkly.

Entreri turned to the boy at his shoulder and gave him a strange look.

"Either way you look at it, their numbers are five," Tai explained in a whisper. "If those three soldiers side with Mordecai and one atop the altar, there are five in the group; if they side with the female and her escort, there are still five in the group."

The assassin's expression grew only more confused. "This is significant?"

"Apparently," Nyx whispered, "five is considered a highly unlucky number in Tethyr."

"Given my faith in Hoar, I try not to place too much stock in luck," Tai said, "but I have to admit . . . there is some small comfort in the fact they number five."

Entreri's eyebrow had crawled halfway up his forehead. "Don't be ludicrous. Luck has little or nothing to do with any battle. It's wit and skill that decide a fight."

"It wasn't when you fought Drizzt the last time," Jarlaxle pointed out, whispering as well. "But never mind. The point is that priestess will likely solve most of our problem for us—or perhaps all of it. We may wait for them to kill each other and then take the mirror and whatever other treasures we may find."

Entreri silently sighed, resigning himself to Jarlaxle's greed.

"And if Mordecai wins?" Nyx asked.

"We'll kill him and take the mirror," Jarlaxle whispered back.

"And if that female drow wins?" the monk pressed him.

"We'll kill her and take the mirror." Jarlaxle grinned.

"One of the soldiers just melted into the shadows," Entreri said, interrupting them.

Jarlaxle drew a wand and pointed it directly overhead. "I wouldn't try that if I were you," he said in drow.

Entreri looked upward and found a solider silently levitating over their heads, his crossbow drawn. "So much for waiting for them to kill each other," the assassin said dryly, drawing his sword.

The drow soldier released his crossbolt at Entreri, who dodged to the side. Simultaneously, Jarlaxle aimed a ball of magical energy at the solider, but even as he did so, the mercenary knew his shot would be too late. The solider shifted his weight and let the levitation spell drop. He landed so that he rolled on impact, which caused Jarlaxle's missile to slam into the heavy stone of the roof. A shower of pebble and wreckage tumbled upon the group.

Entreri shot the drow mercenary a dark look, but Jarlaxle ignored it and drew his two magical daggers. A whispered spell elongated the blades into slender swords.

"My good assassin," he said to Entreri, "if you, your clerical companion, and Nyx would take the soldiers, I shall amuse myself with Mordecai."

Entreri, dagger and sword already in hand, gave Jarlaxle an Are-You-Mad? look. "Have you taken leave of your senses? If Mordecai has that cursed artifact—"

"Then it would be best if the three of you finished the rest quickly," Jarlaxle said.

Apparently shaken by Jarlaxle's magic and his attackers' numbers, the solider who had tried to attack them fled back to the drow priestess. He was quickly joined by the three soldiers who had once sided with Mordecai, and the remaining solider also ran down the ramp as though to aid them. The battle had shifted, though perhaps not in the right direction.

"It looks as though you may be getting your five after all," Entreri said to Tai. "Although at least you will not be like Jarlaxle, who seems determined to condemn himself to death."

The cleric seemed grim. "Our path can lead only to victory; Hoar will not let this injustice stand."

"And I will not underestimate Mordecai," Jarlaxle said. _As I did last time._ The elf glanced at his companions, who nodded their understanding of the plan, and the group joined the fight.

* * *

Nyx focused her sights on the drow coming down the ramp. Since his attention seemed more focused on his comrades, Nyx used the element of surprise to launch her attack. With kukri drawn, she vaulted onto the ramp, scratching his shoulder with one blade and nearly severing his hand with the other. However, a second drow had followed a tactic similar to hers, and he used the angle of the monk's attack against her by kicking her from behind. Nyx's training had prepared her for such a scenario; she twisted and blocked the strike. Growling, she jumped back, facing both drow. 

The shorter drow, who wielded a double-bladed sword, grinned at her and flipped his long silver braid over his shoulder. The movement seemed odd, almost feminine, and Nyx wondered if he were trying to unbalance her.

"Are you mocking me?" Nyx asked, lunging at the drow. She swung the kukri across her chest, deflecting the first drow's forward thrust and knocking him backward. The second drow immediately joined the attack, and the combined defensive strikes from the drow blocked her every move. Focusing her energy on the drow with the silver braid, Nyx issued her first taunt. "I'm not going to let a little pansy like you beat me."

Silver Braid hissed at her and said something she didn't understand.

Seeing that the drows' movements were in sync, Nyx reconsidered her approach. The drow seemed trained to fight as well together as separately; their movements spoke of an eerie level of control. She had to take one out as quickly as possible, or they'd be able to corner her. Attempting to regain her edge, the monk sheathed one kukri and drew shuriken from a side pouch. She feinted a forward sweep with the remaining kukri, then she shifted her weight, carrying herself backwards. With two quick snaps of her wrists, the throwing stars shot forth from her hand, directly towards where each of the drow—

Had been moments ago. Startled, Nyx pivoted to find the white-haired drow behind her and the silver-braided drow at her side. Silver Braid laughed as he arched his double-bladed sword towards her. The strike came with such speed that Nyx only had time to throw her weight out of the main path of the blade. Even so, the cold metal grazed her shoulder, and the awkward movement caught her foot on a stone. Her ankle bent sideways with a sickening pop.

Panting, Nyx curled into a roll and came up in a kneeling position, her kukri out before her once again, beads of sweat rolling down her forehead.

The two drow leered at her, and Silver Braid said something in his own tongue.

Nyx snarled. "Shut up, or I'll rip that blasted tongue out of your mouth and use it as a washcloth." She shifted her footing slightly, noting that the ankle was twisted, not broken. She tensed her muscles, ready to launch her attack, but stopped when a flash of lightning lit the room and struck the side wall.

In that instant, Silver Braid gained further advantage over her. He crossed the gap between them and brought his sword down in a lethal arc. Lips tightening, Nyx blocked the strike with both kukri.

However, the second drow had lunged toward her as well, his blade aimed directly at her side.

* * *

Entreri felt the hairs on his arms lift as the bolt of lightning struck the wall of the chamber. Fragments of ancient stone rained upon him, and the stench of mildew grew stronger. To his side, Tai paused for a moment, apparently refocusing his concentration. 

The drow soldiers and priestess who Entreri and Tai were fighting paused, apparently stunned by the brilliant lightning which had been issued from _Kagaor ki Tamal_. Entreri used their momentary blindness to his advantage and pressed his attack upon the priestess, who barely deflected his sword.

"It would seem Mordecai has coaxed an attack from his prized mirror," the assassin said, and he enjoyed the outrage on the female's face.

"You humans will die for interfering in drow affairs," the priestess replied, snake whip curling in her grip.

Shifting his dagger to a reverse grip, Entreri sneered and circled the priestess even as the other soldiers began to close in on him. "I beg to differ," he said in drow, drawing a look of shock from her. "Does it surprise you that an _iblith_ can speak your tongue?"

Shifting tactics, Entreri broke into a run, bringing Charon's Claw up before him and leaving a long trail of black ash. The drows' positions remained etched in his mind, black forms on a sullen grey backdrop. He burst through the floating barricade, grinning as Charon's Claw connected with flesh, a quick upper thrust cleaving right through skin and bone.

Now able to see his enemy, the drow that Entreri had injured screamed and tried to raise his sword in defense. The assassin snapped his jeweled dagger around in an arc and dug the tip deep into the drow's neck. The elf's eyes went wide in horror as a vampiric power sucked the strength from his limbs; his lips moved in a prayer.

"Too late," Entreri said as the drow gave a final gasp. "You should have thought of that before you followed Lolth's orders to die."

His fighter's senses burned then. On instinct, Entreri swept his blades over his shoulders. One connected with steel, the other with flesh. By the drow's cry, Entreri felt sure that he had taken out at least an eye, if not driven the blade through the elf's brain. He snapped the blades forward again, shifting his weight so that the drow was knocked to the ground, his blood running onto the stone floor.

Disdain lighting his dark eyes, Entreri spat on the dead drow and turned his attention to the other two. Tai was locked in combat with one, his daggers blocking and striking with remarkable speed. The drow seemed off-balance, as though surprised by boy's tenacity.

Satisfied that the priest was in order, Entreri directed his sword towards the remaining drow.

Her lips twisted into a snarl, the drow priestess caught the assassin's gaze and spun around to meet his blades, her snake whip darting out to latch onto Entreri's arms. The assassin blocked easily, and with a quick thrust forward, he nearly ripped the priestess's whip from her hand.

"How humiliating for you," Entreri said in drow, "to be defeated by a human male."

The words hit home, and the priestess, even more enraged, snapped her whip back and tucked herself into a backwards roll, coming up near the edge of the stone ramp. In the semi-dark, her eyes glowed a demonic red, and Entreri found himself reminded of all the time that he had spent in the Underdark.

"Why is it always drow?" he growled, lunging forward. Charon's Claw carved a path of ash in the air. "Why drow!"

* * *

As his companions fought, Jarlaxle faced the very drow he wanted dead. Mordecai's red eyes glimmered in the dull light, and through his infravision, Jarlaxle could see a faint smirk on his former soldier's face. Even so, beads of sweat raced down Mordecai's forehead from his desperate attempts to avoid Jarlaxle's assault. 

_However, my strikes do little good,_ Jarlaxle thought, _now that Mordecai has unleashed chain lightening from the_ Kagaor ki Tamal. Granted, Mordecai seemed unable to effectively control the mirror, but if he could wield that power with little effort . . .

Jarlaxle tilted back his hat. "I have been meaning to comment, and I seem to always forget—what a nice mirror that is!" The elf used the moment to subtly shift his footing so that he could spring. "Although I shouldn't think you'd be so deluded about your appearance as to enjoy staring at your own image."

"Your childish taunts do nothing," Mordecai said, too casually for Jarlaxle's liking. Though he was breathing heavy, the drow still smiled. "You are more a fool than I first thought if you believe you can defeat me here. Perhaps, in light of your impertinence, I will even rape that boy again and force your other human pets to watch."

With the implication of those words to fuel him, Jarlaxle launched himself forward, swords snapping and popping in quick circles and thrusts. The other drow dipped, narrowly missing having his ear sliced off, but still gained several cuts from the assault.

Mordecai was out of his element, Jarlaxle thought with a trace of satisfaction. No matter how powerful the mirror was, Mordecai couldn't escape if he couldn't dodge simple physical attacks. The cleric was an expert swordsman, but that did little good if he did not wield swords.

Wasting no time, Jarlaxle let one sword fly from his grip. As it traveled, the mercenary quickly drew a dagger from his wrist bracer. The sword dipped in its flight and sliced Mordecai's left arm.

Cursing, the cleric rubbed the wound and licked the blood off his fingers with a sadistic scowl. "You would have blood, would you? I would rather have cooked flesh!"

Jarlaxle's eyes went wide, and he instinctively stepped backwards. His guess was correct.

Cackling madly, Mordecai took aim with the mirror and released a second bolt of white lightning from its surface. The electricity crackled the air where Jarlaxle had just been, and the mercenary didn't have time to see where it had gone. It was all that he could do to maintain his balance.

"Would you like another demonstration?" Mordecai asked.

Jarlaxle grimaced. He had to kill Mordecai quickly while the cleric was still unsure of the mirror's properties. If Mordecai could discover more than just how to invoke chain lightning . . .

"Time ticks slowly for a dead man," Jarlaxle muttered.

* * *

In desperation, Nyx struck with the only strategy she could recall. The monk yelled, igniting her battle _ki_, and shifted most of her weight onto her uninjured leg. She spun in a semi-circle, using her momentum to both partially dodge the drow's blade and execute a round-house kick to Silver Braid's head. The result was that, although she couldn't completely clear the sword, she knocked Silver Braid into the second drow, which broke the line of his attack. 

Nyx didn't congratulate herself yet, however. The drow regained their balance with ease, their red eyes flames of rage and hatred. Her only option remained killing one within the next minute before they could use her injury against her. Gathering her _ki_ for a second strike, Nyx admitted to herself that she needed a distraction.

_Hoar help me,_ the monk thought, keeping her kukri before her defensively. _Just one chance. I need one chance._

And then, so fast that it surprised her, that chance came. A flash of lightning lit the room, and the monk noted a blur of movement as Silver Braid tried to evade the errant bolt. The move threw the other drow off balance. That was it. Summoning the full force of her life energy into her good leg, Nyx leapt forward and slammed her foot into the second drow's windpipe. The strike crushed his throat, and the drow stumbled backward onto the floor, desperately trying to draw wheezing breaths.

Landing carefully so that she did not strain her ankle, Nyx grinned and drew a pair of shuriken from her pouch. She faced Silver Braid, who suddenly regarded her with blatant fear.

Now the fight was back on her terms.

* * *

Great gashes erupted on the drow solider's chest as Tai emptied a burst of divine energy into him. Blood sprayed from the solider's wounds, spattering the priest's face, but Tai ignored it and took aim with the stiletto dagger in his right hand. As the drow attempted to regain his footing, the priest lunged forward and buried the tip of the weapon in the drow's throat, severing his windpipe. The solider toppled to the ground. 

In his preoccupation, Tai almost failed to note the lightning bolt. The world seemed strangely still as a flash of light filled the room; the priest turned away from the dying drow and focused on the electricity's path. It nearly killed another drow—one of the soldiers Nyx fought—then arced towards Entreri.

Tai's horror and panic were absolute. He didn't think. He didn't plan. He simply _acted._

A surge of power flooded into the priest, and an incantation he didn't recognize left his lips. A flash of golden light enveloped Tai, followed by a sensation of displacement. Suddenly he was lying on the ground, Entreri under him, as the bolt passed disconcertingly close to his back. The lightning struck near the drow priestess Entreri had been fighting, and with a yell, she scrambled to one side.

The assassin remained deathly still, and for an agonizing moment, Tai wondered if he had failed. However, a second later a muffled growl erupted from beneath the priest.

"Damn, boy, what were you thinking?" Entreri lurched up, shoving Tai roughly to the side.

The priest cringed. "I—I was just trying to save you from the lightning. I thought you might be killed."

Entreri's gaze bore into Tai. "Save yourself next time."

Tai bit his lip, hurt.

The assassin stood and glared at the priestess, who had recovered herself and now approached them. "So quick to die," the man muttered as he stepped toward his opponent.

Tai stood as well, watching Entreri's back for him. His pain had been momentary, for it occurred to the priest that Entreri's cynical side was second nature to him. He also recognized that regardless of what the man would say, Entreri's anger might not be born of disdain.

Either way, Tai didn't believe he was the one who needed saving.

* * *

The mercenary was growing annoying. Worse, Mordecai decided, he was fast becoming dangerous. Every step that Jarlaxle made, every strike he directed towards Mordecai, drained the drow of strength. The battle strained him more than he recalled happening before; however, he shrugged it away as a result of being unaccustomed to the mirror's power. 

Yet for all the energy drain, the blasted mirror seemed restricted to one attack. Since he had first touched it, Mordecai had been able to do nothing other than summon chain lightning. Whatever magic that had initially occurred seemed to have subsided.

"Would you like a breather?" Jarlaxle called, sending another flurry of daggers. "A moment to relax, perhaps?"

Mordecai dodged most of the daggers, but one caught the edge of his wrist, drawing a thin line of blood only a bit lower from where he had been struck by the flying sword. He felt tired of Jarlaxle's continued babbling. No matter how Mordecai protested, Jarlaxle's comments did irk him because he knew that he had enough power in the mirror to crush them all. He just wasn't sure how to access it.

Jarlaxle unleashed another stream of daggers, and Mordecai spun to avoid them. He was startled, then, when he came suddenly face-to-face with another pair of red eyes.

"Foolish male," Chalithra hissed. Blood leaked from a head wound and matted her white hair about her hairline. "I will rip out your intestines and feed them to driders. It is by divine favor alone that you did not kill me _accidentally_ with that cursed lightning!"

A wave of embarrassment seared across Mordecai's face, but only briefly. He hated it when priestesses mocked him, and he hated it even more when they were right. A feral growl escaped his throat, and a surge of rage burned in his lungs. He could feel the fury building in his fingers, growing within the mirror.

"I will kill you both, then," he said softly.

Apparently unimpressed, Jarlaxle turned to Chalithra and shrugged. "I would much rather prefer to do it myself, but if you insist . . . a truce?"

"Momentarily," Chalithra sneered. "Long enough to see that one drawn up with my whip."

Truces meant little to the drow, but that was no comfort for Mordecai when his two enemies—one almost past sanity with anger, the other possessed with a killing calm—advanced on him.

Mordecai had no choice. Focusing his mind on the mirror, the cleric allowed the magic of the artifact to enter his mind. He felt the pathways intertwining before him, saw the Weave bend in the air. Just as before, he aimed the mirror, smiling in victory when Jarlaxle and Chalithra faltered in their steps. The air crackled, the glass flashed—

And nothing happened.

* * *

Nyx grinned as her fists repeatedly connected with drow flesh. Although her battle _ki_ had been spent with the kick that had killed the other drow, her training in unarmed combat allowed her to strike Silver Braid with the strength of the earth beneath her feet. While the impact of her punch traveled harmlessly through her body into the floor, the main force struck the drow in the chest, causing him to melt away from her with cries of pain. It wouldn't be long, she decided, before he gave in entirely—or, perhaps, fled. 

The drow grunted as one of her punches struck him across the side of the head. Skin broke under her fingers, and the drow stumbled backwards.

"Come on," Nyx chided, wiping blood from her knuckles. "Had enough?"

Surprisingly enough, Silver Braid had. Shaking his head as if to right his senses, he lunged away, heading toward the door.

"Coward!" She snarled, reaching for a pair of shuriken, only to find her pouch empty. "Oh, lovely." Grabbing for the one thing available to her, Nyx grasped hold of her kukri and started to throw one an attempt to catch the drow before he left.

However, her body betrayed her as the last of her _ki_ seemed to drain away, and the ankle that she had twisted earlier collapsed. Nyx fell to the ground with a thud, managing to catch herself before she injured anything else. She was left to watch, frustrated, as the drow fled the room, his silver braid flopping behind him.

* * *

Jarlaxle laughed at Mordecai's horrified expression when the mirror failed to discharge. The foolish drow had gotten what he deserved! 

Mordecai slumped backwards with a shocked expression, glaring at the artifact as though it were animal excrement. At his pause, Chalithra rushed forward, snake heads snapping at the cleric. One of the animated heads bit deeply into Mordecai's arm, causing him to scream and fall further backwards, blood now dripping from both arms.

Having used the opportunity to gain a better angle, Jarlaxle let loose a swarm of throwing daggers. Two missed, and two hit the mirror with no result. The final one caught Mordecai in the shoulder. The drow hissed and spun around, bringing up the mirror with the only arm that would still work. The poison of the whip had apparently taken hold in the other, for it hung limply at his side.

"And now," Chalithra snarled, her petite features curving into a hideous grin, "you will die."

_That is, of course,_ Jarlaxle thought smugly, drawing a wand from its pocket of holding, _if I don't kill Mordecai first._

As Jarlaxle took aim with the wand and Chalithra closed in, Mordecai seemed to find some strength in his desperation. The surface of the mirror flared once, then exploded into a brilliant light that sent the priestess to the floor with a scream, clutching at her eyes. Jarlaxle, more accustomed to the bright light of the surface, merely cringed.

When the light faded, the mercenary was dismayed to see not Mordecai, but a large viper at least twenty feet long. The snake reared up and hissed, poison dripping from two teeth the size of a drow's arm.

To the side, Chalithra crawled away along the floor, one hand still clutching at her eyes. Jarlaxle ignored her, instead focusing on the more immediate threat. The snake was huge and much like the carcass that he had seen upon entering the room. It was likely that the mirror had the power to summon some form of snake to the wielder's control.

A voice from behind startled Jarlaxle, and he turned to see Entreri, sword drawn and dagger pointed at the snake. "You said?" the elf asked.

Grey eyes flashed. "I hate drow," the assassin growled. So fast that he seemed to disappear, Entreri sprinted to the snake. When the creature moved to strike, the assassin rebounded off the wall and landed on its back. The snake sputtered in pain as Charon's Claw drove deep into its back, but it was the dagger that silenced the creature. Entreri only held the blade in the snake's back for a few seconds before it thudded to the ground.

"Effective," Jarlaxle said, never ceasing to be impressed by Entreri's talent. Then he glanced about the room and realized it was empty save he and his companions. Apparently Chalithra had recovered and given Mordecai chase.

"And Mordecai?" Entreri asked, his eyes narrowed.

Jarlaxle didn't answer. Instead, he turned his attention towards Tai, who had rushed to the injured Nyx. He held the image of the worried young priest in his mind until he found the words that needed to be said.

"His own pride will force him to return and try to kill us." The drow mercenary was calm and confident. "He will walk directly into our hands."

* * *

The Jaezred Chaulssin: a well-hidden drow House of master assassins who haunted the ruins of the ancient city of Chaulssin. Unknown except to a few, the House was the essence of stealth, sending away its members to strategically infiltrate and kill in cities like Menzoberranzan. 

It was to one member of this secret House that Mordecai reported to, meeting him in a secluded cave in the forest—a place long planned out in advance.

Stepping into the cave, the partially-healed Mordecai managed a bow. "I have come, brother, with the mirror."

The other drow, who looked much like a taller, thinner version of Mordecai himself, stood from the rocky ledge that had been his seat. "Do not call me 'brother' when you have made so many mistakes and foolish choices."

Mordecai glared at the male, who was genuinely his full-blooded brother, and frowned. "I have done the best I could in difficult circumstances, and the mirror is ours now. Our House will be able to wreak much damage with this powerful item."

"Indeed we shall," the older male, Zharin, said, "but you nearly destroyed our entire mission and revealed us! You were chosen for this task because of your profile—carefully selected and planted in order to be acquired by the Tuin'Tarl. We invested decades of effort into making sure you could procure the mirror with stealth. Yet you have managed to attract too much attention; you have the eldest daughter of Tuin'Tarl and the ex-leader of Bregan D'aerthe tracking you!"

"We have the mirror," Mordecai repeated, irritated.

The older drow's glowing red gaze seemed to drill through the cleric's skull. "You allowed your own ambition to get in the way."

As Mordecai grew tenser, his backpack shifted, revealing the presence of something live within it.

"Tell me it is not so," Zharin sighed. "Show it to me."

With an exasperated sigh, Mordecai pulled off his backpack and lifted out Cat, who he had summoned to him after shaking Chalithra's pursuit. The soft white animal twisted in his hands and meowed at the newcomer.

Zharin shook his head. "So petty. You did not have time to take pets! What were you thinking dragging some worthless beast across the Night Above with you?"

"I am anything but petty," Mordecai snapped.

But Zharin was not listening. "You have been too reckless, too immature, too risky. You have much to account for." The older drow held out his hand. "Give me the _Kagaor ki Tamal._ We must return to our House at once."

Mordecai hesitated, dropping Cat to the floor. Hand over the mirror? Somehow the thought seemed incongruous. _He_ was the wielder. The mirror's power was _his_ to control. The Jaezred Chaulssin shouldn't be criticizing him—they should be thanking him for using such power to their advantage.

"_Alak,_" Zharin said in a warning tone, using Mordecai's real name, his birth name.

But Alak didn't hand over the mirror. The _Kagaor ki Tamal_ belonged to him, to the cleric known as Mordecai. Its power was for him alone.

Slowly, in a calm and non-threatening gesture, Mordecai pulled the mirror from his backpack and started to hold it out. Then, with only a thought, he commanded the mirror to strike his brother with lightning. The mirror complied, invoking a blinding glow in the room as it pumped streak after streak of lightning into Zharin's chest.

Mordecai left only a charred corpse behind.

_

* * *

__Sorry about the delay in posting chapter 1; I've been felled by a case of arm strain. Thanks goes to Darkhelmet, Euphorbic, and Rezuri for betareading. Also, a big thank you is in order for Darkhelmet, who wrote part of the chapter. (Or, more simply put, the ADWT strikes again.) I'm not sure how quickly I'll be able to post chapter 2—real life always gets in the way—but I'll attempt to have it up no later than two weeks from now. _

Thank you in advance to all who read and any who review.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"_A Truth"_

The magical torches burned dimly, leaving most of the temple in shadows. The corpses of several drow and two vipers littered the flagstones, and the metallic smell of blood tinged the air, adding a strange contrast to the earthy smell of dirt and vines. With the battle over, the chamber seemed too still and quiet, especially since Jarlaxle was deep in thought and Entreri was scowling. Even Nyx remained silent as Tai attended to her injuries, and the priest wished someone would speak. They needed to propose a plan of action immediately. However, as Tai lowered his hand, having finished healing Nyx's wounds, he found himself caught on a memory. He stared past the monk's shoulder, his brow creased. "Convergence of mirror."

Nyx raised an eyebrow, and Entreri turned his scowl away from the ground and considered the priest.

"'Convergence of mirror?'" the assassin repeated.

Tai continued to stare at the far wall as his thoughts sorted themselves. The dim chamber and its musty smell bothered him, although he wasn't sure why, and made it hard for him to concentrate. It was as though the impinging shadows and dust reminded him of something . . . something that made him uncomfortable. It was like—

Tai shook his head and forcefully pushed away his discomfort. With a deep breath, he got his thoughts back on track. "Do you remember what I told you? 'Kagaor ki Tamal' means 'convergence of mirror.'"

Nyx was nodding. "The information we read said that the artifact was called The Mirror of Convergence."

"But it also was referred to as The Tainted Mirror," Jarlaxle pointed out.

Tai shook his head. "I don't know what that means, but I know what I felt. I sensed it when Mordecai used the mirror: divine energy. The mirror is divine."

Jarlaxle watched the priest for a moment, then nodded. "Our question is answered."

"Not entirely." Tai focused his gaze on the drow. "We don't know if the mirror will put Mordecai in touch with Set or Sseth."

"I take it neither is good," Entreri commented dryly.

"The greater question," Jarlaxle said, "is this: what does Mordecai think the mirror does, and was his assumption correct?" A small smile turned up the corners of his lips. "As a follower of Vhaeraun, Mordecai would have little use for a mirror that connects him to another deity."

Nyx appeared smug. "Then obviously he thought the mirror was psionic."

"But it isn't." Jarlaxle laughed. "I wonder how that will affect his great plans!"

Tai had to admit that Mordecai's apparent blunder amused him as well, but it didn't mean Mordecai was any less dangerous. "Maybe not at all," the priest said.

Entreri frowned. "Indeed. He seemed perfectly capable of wielding the mirror's power."

Jarlaxle shrugged. "As I said, he will return for us. We may track him down to save time, but he will come to us either way."

Tai frowned. It was true, of course, but Jarlaxle seemed too confident for the priest's comfort. All four of them had multiple reasons for vengeance, and he and Nyx even had a holy mission for retribution. Added to this was the endangerment to their lives and Mordecai's apparent success, but Jarlaxle seemed unworried. In fact, the elf began walking around the room, checking the walls.

"Now what's he doing?" Nyx mumbled.

Entreri's eyes were half-hooded. "Checking for hidden doors, no doubt. He thinks there will be treasure here."

Nyx rubbed her temples, as though she were getting a headache. "He's thinking of treasure at a time like this?"

"There may be something else left in the ruins that might aid us in our cause," Jarlaxle pointed out. He stopped in front of a wall carving, frowned at it, then explored it. Moments later, a hidden door rumbled open.

Even from his position, Tai could detect the magical torches in the next chamber flaming to life. The resulting glow of light upon the drow's face was brighter than it should have been, and the mercenary's sudden gleaming smile told Tai all he needed to know.

"Well," Tai said, throwing Nyx's words of a few days earlier back into her face, "he _is_ a mercenary."

"He's a _drow_ mercenary," Entreri corrected, as if that explained everything.

Jarlaxle had clasped his hands together and was staring into the next chamber as though a beautiful naked woman stood beyond the doorway. "Just seeing to our finances," the elf said a touch breathlessly.

Tai traded a look with Entreri. "I think I understand our drow companion better each day."

Entreri smirked. "You must have been fooled by his uncharacteristic charm and equally uncharacteristic gaudiness. Your mistake."

"I really didn't know anything about drow," Tai admitted, finding himself sharing that smirk. "Guess I found out the hard way."

Entreri's facial expression grew suddenly stoic again—an unreadable mask. Nyx flashed a look of concern at Tai, then she shot the assassin a glare, as if he were somehow to blame for Tai's cynical humor.

"Don't be upset," Tai said, perceiving the monk's protectiveness, "'A wise man is a fool who lived.'"

Entreri frowned. "A saying from Tethyr?"

"A truth," Tai replied, not actually meaning to be cryptic. The priest walked over to the treasure chamber's door, through which the drow had disappeared. Despite the fact Tai wasn't charmed by gold and jewels, even he had to be impressed with the display that met him: piles of silver, gold, and platinum coins; precious gems; fine weapons—Tai imagined that the treasure was much like a dragon's horde.

Jarlaxle had picked up a fist-sized ruby that nearly matched the color of his uncovered eye. "Stunning."

Entreri stepped up behind Tai, glanced in, and eyed a sword. It wasn't lost on Tai that the assassin basically ignored all the wealth in the room and instead focused on the weapons. Entreri entered the chamber and pulled the nearest sword from a pile of coins; he examined the blade and tested the balance. "Fine blade. Not enchanted." He glanced at Tai. "How is your swordsmanship?"

"Average," the priest admitted. "I do better with the daggers."

Nyx had joined Tai as well and stared wide-eyed at the treasure. "I never imagined I'd witness such a sight."

Jarlaxle was tucking jewels and coins into the magical pouch on his belt. "We shall be well-funded for a time to come."

"And so is the summation of Jarlaxle: cleverness, greed, greed, greed, and power-mongering," Tai quipped.

Jarlaxle merely laughed, which the priest expected, but Entreri smiled, too, although the expression was closer to a smirk. Even still, Tai was oddly pleased to have amused the stoic man. However, business was business. "Maybe we should kill first and horde treasure later," the priest said.

Entreri shoved the sword back into the pile of coins and gave the priest the clearest look of respect Tai had seen yet. "I couldn't agree more."

Jarlaxle looked between the two with a paternalistic smile. "Entreri and Entreri Junior are in agreement; I suppose I shall have to control my enthusiasm for now."

Entreri's cold, murderous stare should have peeled Jarlaxle's skin off his face. The assassin walked toward Tai and Nyx and gestured for them to follow him. "Ignore the senile elf and come with me."

Tai snorted and followed as bid, but he had a feeling that there were a few things left to work out between Entreri and Jarlaxle. And perhaps also Jarlaxle and himself.

* * *

Mordecai balanced on the rocks of the river bank and stared into the muddy water, which gushed and broke over protruding boulders. The morning was overcast, the sky burdened with dark clouds, and the river seemed to rage in anticipation of the coming storm. Buried in the gushing roar was a hiss, and to Mordecai's imagination, it sounded like hundreds of snakes. Even the thrashing of tree limbs and leaves in the wind sounded like a pit of angry serpents to the cleric, and Mordecai had to wonder if the mirror carried a curse. Ultimately, however, he was far more concerned with power than any potential curses, and so he was unwilling to act on his suspicions, especially since he both wanted and needed that power, given that Jarlaxle and Pets, a priestess of Lolth, and the Jaezred Chaulssin were after his head. 

A sense of presence more than the sound footsteps alerted Mordecai to the approach of another. The cleric placed one hand upon the _Kagaor ki Tamal,_ which he had attached to the utility belt across his chest, and glanced over his shoulder. The sight of Vren five feet behind him surprised him, and he stood. "I would have thought you would be helping Chalithra track me down."

Vren grimaced. "With three House soldiers to spy on me during our journey and tell her that I betrayed my Matron Mother? Doubtful. I may have put on a show for Chalithra while she was present, but that doesn't erase my betrayal. Besides, the fact remains that as long as you have the mirror, you are the victor."  
Pragmatism mixed with cowardice. Still, Mordecai smiled, deciding to accept Vren's company. "True enough. I could almost say you are wise in choosing to work with me, for with the mirror's power, my enemies will fall easily."

Vren smirked and pulled his thick silver braid over his shoulder to pet it. "You mean, once you learn how to properly wield it. Don't think I failed to note those errant bolts and misfires, especially when one nearly took off my head."

Mordecai glared at the delicate drow. "I assure you, the mirror and I draw closer by the hour."

"You 'draw closer'?" Vren repeated. "That is a particularly odd way of phrasing it."

Mordecai absently scratched the back of his neck as he stopped to consider his own words. "I suppose. All that should concern you, however, is that my ability to wield the mirror increases almost by the minute."

"As you say." The frowning Vren did not look impressed.

Mordecai experienced an inexplicable snap of rage and aimed the mirror at the Secondboy. "Would you care for a demonstration?"

Vren quickly lifted both hands and backed away a step. "Unnecessary."

Mordecai snorted but was kept from further comment by a bump on his calf. He looked down at Cat, who rubbed her forehead against his leg.

Mordecai picked her up and rubbed the soft fur between her ears, but he had to stop almost instantly and scratch the back of his neck again. Then, inexplicably, his side itched as well. Had he managed to come in contact with a plant that caused rashes? It was irritating, but it hardly worried him. Still holding Cat, he turned and grinned at Vren. "Well, let us not waste any further time. We must resume tracking down Jarlaxle and Pets immediately; we should be able to hunt them down and kill them by nightfall."

The Secondboy frowned, looking distinctly ill-at-ease. "Why do you pursue them still?"

"Because they pursue me," Mordecai answered, conveniently failing to mention all the humiliation he'd seen at not only Jarlaxle's hands, but Entreri's and the boy's, not to mention the pressing matter of being pursued by three different foes.

Vren remained wisely quiet, and the two resumed Mordecai's task.

* * *

The afternoon sun, which had broken through the gathering clouds just long enough to ignite the forest's humidity, sent waves of heat over Entreri and his companions. From the days spent traveling through the Dalelands prior to being captured by the madman Waylein, to this day—almost a year later—the assassin maintained that humidity was evil. The Calishite sun may have spent a lifetime punishing him, but the searing difference between Calimport and the High Forest could not be dismissed. The sweat trickling down his temples attested to that fact. 

The tree cover and its shade offered some relief, and Entreri had become hypersensitive to the sound of rushing wind. Every shimmer to race through the full green leaves promised a moment's further reprieve and a deep breath of clean air. Then the forest would settle back into silence broken only by chirping birds, and the fragrance of flowers would confound the humidity, making it difficult to breathe. The assassin felt as though he'd been thrown into a pit of broken perfume bottles: jasmine, wild rose, yarrow, and dozens of flowers Entreri couldn't identify doused the air. The riot of smells threatened to give him a headache.

Behind him, Tai and Nyx kept pace, both obviously well-acclimated to the forest and its humidity. Jarlaxle remained about five paces to their rear, supposedly providing guard. Still, the drow, who had lived centuries in the cool Underdark, seemed to be sweating even harder than Entreri. The assassin smirked.

The group maintained a swift pace, stopping for only fifteen minutes every few hours to rest and eat small meals. Jarlaxle possessed the magical means to track Mordecai now that he carried the _Kagaor ki Tamal_, but their trip was complicated by their tactic: they were circling around to Mordecai's rear, hoping to ambush him from behind.

The gurgling of a stream impressed itself onto Entreri's consciousness, and he slowed their speed as a creek came into view. They had been traveling nonstop since noon; it was time for a short break. All four rushed to the stream, splashing their faces with water and filling their flasks.

Jarlaxle retreated to the heavy shade of an oak and withdrew a small disk with a sapphire in the middle. "That's odd," he said, more to himself. "Mordecai's movements have become erratic."

Entreri lifted his flask from the stream and joined the elf under the tree. "What do you mean, erratic?" He glanced at the blue squiggles on the stone disk and frowned.

"Given the nature of our surroundings, Mordecai's movements should move in a wavering line, somewhat like the path of a river, toward the saurian ruins, provided that he assumes we're still there. Or his movements should move toward our general position, if he knows where we are in the forest. Instead . . ." Jarlaxle pointed to the random loops as though no further comment were necessary.

"A pig's tail," Nyx said as she joined them.

"Pig's tail?" Jarlaxle echoed.

"His movements remind me of the curls in a pig's tail." She grinned at them. "Maybe his greed has finally gifted him with the rather poetic fate of morphing into a swine." Her smile widened. "Or perhaps a wild boar."

Entreri glanced at her, oddly struck by her sheer energy. The redhead nearly radiated confidence and good spirits, as though she already knew the outcome of the battle.

Jarlaxle grinned wickedly and lifted one finger into the air, as though to underscore a point. "Indeed, I imagine these loops and curls are reminiscent of your soft, auburn hair when you release it from its braided prison. Why, in my dreams, I—"

"Spare me," the monk said, lifting her foot to kick the elf. However, Entreri beat her to it. The assassin aimed a punch at Jarlaxle's head, but the elf dodged, causing the strike to land upon his shoulder instead.

"Now be nice," Jarlaxle said, turning his most innocent smile upon the assassin. "If you aren't going to extol her beauty, then I shall—"

"Die a gruesome death when she decides to punish you for your lechery?" Entreri said, his hand twitching in his desire to flog the mercenary for bringing up such a topic . . . and for the obvious ploy behind those words. The last thing he needed was a drow matchmaker!

"Save your sweet-talk for the whores," Nyx told Jarlaxle dryly.

Jarlaxle just grinned at them, and Entreri heard a soft sigh behind him.

"Correction," Tai said, "I must revise my earlier statement: the summation of Jarlaxle's life is cleverness, greed, greed, greed, and _lust._"

"Why the dour expression?" Jarlaxle asked the priest. "Should I not enjoy my life?"

"Indeed you should," Tai replied, very serious despite Jarlaxle's banter, "but manipulation, wealth, power, and sex won't bring you joy. At the end of your life, you will be just as empty as when you were born, but you will lack the understanding to figure out why."

Jarlaxle looked taken aback, although only momentarily. "We shall see if you still agree once you have fallen in love and lain with your first woman."

Tai's face turned a sudden shade of bright red, and Nyx kicked Jarlaxle's shin. The elf managed to avoid serious injury and chuckled in the face of Nyx's fury.

"Don't tease him!" she said, raising her foot as though to stomp Jarlaxle's face.

Entreri could see the wicked gleam in Jarlaxle's eye and knew the monk would be his next victim. "Stop now before she uses her _ki_ to ground your prized, handsome face into gruel."

Jarlaxle stared at the assassin. "You think I'm handsome?"

Entreri understood all too well that he was now the target. "_You_ think you're handsome."

"Indeed I am!" the elf easily agreed. "Although I didn't think you would be possessed of the refinement necessary to recognize that."

The assassin had him now. "Ah, so you say I'm not refined enough to see your beauty, but you imply I can see Nyx's? Does that mean Nyx has unrefined beauty?"

Nyx stared at the assassin, as though startled by his words.

The elf missed a beat. "My good man, did you just admit to recognizing both of our beauty?"

Entreri didn't blink. "Quit twisting my words. Did you not just say that Nyx's beauty was second class?"

"Did you just not admit that she's beautiful twice in a row?"

The assassin wasn't going to let him succeed. "If she were not beautiful, you wouldn't be trying to manipulate me into courting her, now would you?"

Silence.

Jarlaxle looked to Nyx as though to assess her reaction, and Entreri smirked. However, when Nyx seemed too shocked for words, the elf recovered his aplomb and spoke. "Just trying to help you grasp the obvious."

"At least he admits it," Tai muttered.

Nyx's spattering of pale freckles had been lost in her blush. "What! You're trying to—" She glanced at Entreri, then just as quickly looked back at Jarlaxle. "You're trying to arrange a relationship between Entreri and myself?"

Jarlaxle was grinning again. "See Artemis? She's even more beautiful when she's flushed."

Entreri hit Jarlaxle on the shoulder with enough force to knock him halfway over. "Do put back on the mask of a gentlemen. You've embarrassed both Nyx and Tai enough for one day." The assassin stood and headed off into the trees. "Let's continue. We've rested long enough."

The sounds of footsteps and a chuckling drow alerted Entreri to the fact that his companions were indeed following. However, for an instant, the assassin's thoughts were diverted away from his task and onto the possibility that Nyx was, in fact, attracted to him.

But the distraction lasted only for a moment.

* * *

Mordecai growled, and the expression of anger was so intense that, from her position at the cleric's feet, Cat arched her back and hissed. 

The sun now set upon the Night Above, staining the horizon a crimson that bled into pink over the expanse of the sky. Although still nameless, now familiar insects buzzed and chirped in the cool breeze, which rushed through shimmering leaves and filled the air with—

Hissing. The sound still reminded Mordecai of hissing. But the cleric shook away such thoughts and focused on the source of his irritation: he and Vren hadn't found Jarlaxle and Pets. Here he was, no doubt being pursued by both a priestess of Loth and an assassin from the Jaezred Chaulssin, and he couldn't so much as locate the main source of his irritation—Jarlaxle! He needed to take out the mercenary and his pets before all his enemies managed to close in on him at once.

"How far away did I teleport?" the cleric asked no one in particular, stunned by the amount of time he and Vren had traveled without even catching a glimpse of the mercenary drow. Mordecai had the strangest sense that he'd somehow traveled in a circle, but even more disturbing was the fact his memory of the day seemed somehow blurred.

Although Mordecai's question had been rhetorical, Vren answered anyway. "Far, I'd say. I met you on your way back only because I traveled all night. Besides, it is unlikely Jarlaxle stayed in the ruins. He is likely tracking you, but I doubt he took a straight course. We should assume he's coming at us from the side or may have worked his way behind us."

It was true enough, but Vren's impertinence angered Mordecai. "If I want to hear strategic talk, I'll tell you what to say." He reached up and violently scratched the irritated skin on his neck. The act set off a chain reaction that had him scratching both sides of his ribs and even the back of his left calf before returning to his itching neck again. He had scratched it so many times during the day that the skin was rough and peeling. "Curse it, but what is wrong with my neck!"

Vren, who had been frozen still in the face of Mordecai's anger, recovered himself and walked over to the cleric. "Let me see."

Mordecai schooled himself to calm down and allow Vren to inspect the problem. A long pause followed in which the cleric could feel Vren's shock. The Secondboy's surprise evoked a burning fear in Mordecai's lungs. "What?" the cleric asked.

"It's . . . scales," Vren whispered. "You have scales on your neck—brown ones, like the creature we killed in the ruins!"

"S-snake scales?" Mordecai stuttered. He pawed through the pouches on his belt until he located a small hand mirror he had stolen from the wizard's tower. Then he aligned the larger _Kagaor ki Tamal_ and the hand mirror so he could see the back of his neck. Just as Vren had said, a patch of brown scales had grown over his vertebrae. Mordecai's growing fear lanced through his veins with such a burn that it caused him to want to scratch at the blood vessels in his arms as well. Quickly storing both mirrors, the cleric ripped open his shirt to check his chest. An expanse of pale and darker brown scales raced along the sides of his ribs.

"The mirror?" Vren asked quietly. "Is it cursed?"

For a minute, Mordecai couldn't speak. His urge to throw away the mirror was strong. But as soon as he had the thought, the cleric discarded it. What foolishness! The mirror made him powerful; what were a few scales by comparison, even if they did itch? Besides, after he mastered the mirror, Mordecai could no doubt be rid of the scales—he could command the mirror to retract the damage. Yes, it was an irritating side effect, perhaps, but it was temporary. Mordecai would be able to stop it soon, and the benefits he gained from wielding the _Kagaor ki Tamal_ far outweighed this drawback.

"It is temporary," Mordecai said with confidence. "I am the wielder, and my control will only increase, not lessen. There is no danger." The cleric nodded to himself at this proclamation, as if to punctuate the remark, only to be shot in the chest with a crossbolt.

The cleric jerked in surprise and involuntarily coughed from the impact, but his armor protected him from the weapon. Quickly, Mordecai moved both his hands before his body in an elliptical motion, praying for a divine shield . . . but nothing happened. The cleric cursed as three drow assassins burst from the underbrush and descended upon Vren and him.

The Secondboy shrieked in fright and jerked out his weapon, practically yelling the magical command word that extended the double blades. He stepped forward to meet the first swordsman, snapping the sword in an arc, then jumping backward and twirling the sword before him when his strike was blocked by the assassin's blade.

The other two assassins, who Mordecai recognized as cousins of his, drew their swords as well and approached him at an angle meant to entrap him. The cleric realized that his god was not answering his pleas, so he resorted to the object of contention—the _Kagaor ki Tamal_. As he gripped the mirror, the world around him seemed to blur for an instant, and the assassins and even trees seemed to slump as though their energy had been drained. However, the assassins shook off the effect and resumed their attack, so Mordecai reached into the mirror, as though calling upon it with his very soul, and commanded the lightning to come forth. White tendrils of lightning stabbed outward from the mirror's surface, piercing the two drow before him before jumping to the third and killing him.

A single breath, and Mordecai had terminated the battle. A burning itch raced through his spine, but he shrugged it off.

Chewing his lip, Vren stared at the smoking, charred corpses, then focused his gaze on the cleric. "You could defeat an entire army that way."

"If the Jaezred Chaulssin are angry enough at me, I'll need the ability to defeat an army—one of assassins," Mordecai admitted offhandedly. "I suppose it is just as well that I, in fact, have such power."

The cleric turned away to see to forging food, but he didn't miss as Vren's look of incomprehension bled into one of fear. Mordecai savored the Secondboy's terror, steadfastly ignoring the prickling itch running across his chest.

After all, minute by minute he was mastering the mirror.

* * *

_A/N: Thank you again to all who read and reviewed! Hopefully, chapter 3 will be up in about 2 weeks._


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: (RAS spoilers ahead!)  
**The Shade's Life Force--**Felhound has asked a good question, which I will now answer. Many people can't get copies of RAS's short stories, so here's a brief explanation. In "That Curious Sword," published in _Realms of Shadows_ (2003), Entreri and Jarlaxle are attacked by a Shade, a creature of shadow. The Shade is after Entreri's sword because his people forged the sword and want it back. Entreri kills the Shade with his vampiric dagger, which imbues him with the Shade's essence. Significance: the Shade are long-lived humanoids who are capable of self-regeneration, therefore Entreri's aging process has been slowed (or maybe even partially reversed). Not to mention he can wield Charon's Claw without the gauntlet. _

I hope that helped.

Thank you to Felhound,Shupanza, and all who read and reviewed! I hope to post chapter 4 in no more than 2 weeks.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

"_A Fiction"_

The sun-filled morning found an angry Mordecai. With Vren's assistance, the cleric had set up an ambush for Chalithra and Jarlaxle and Pets—whoever reached them first. Yet it would seem the Jaezred Chaulssin were the only ones to hone in on their prey for the night; neither the priestess or the mercenary and company had made an appearance. Since Mordecai could sense their pursuit, this fact frustrated him, and the sounds of the waking world did little to alleviate his mood. The happily singing birds and golden sunlight seemed to mock him.

However, his frustration over not facing his enemies paled in comparison to the itching that now erupted over his entire chest, back, and neck, not to mention his left leg. A small part of Mordecai's mind screamed that the mirror was consuming him, but the cleric refused to listen. He had sacrificed so much time to retrieving the mirror! Decades! How could he throw away the artifact when he had invested so much time and energy in finding it? He would be a fool, indeed, to waste such a part of his life; he had to persevere. He would master the mirror, reverse the damage, and then revel in his glory and power.

From across their small camp, Vren stared at Mordecai. In fact, he'd been gawking at the cleric all night. "Are you sure you should not destroy the mirror?" the Secondboy asked quietly. "It seems to be deeply cursed, and there is now a patch of scales on your jaw."

The cleric growled and stood abruptly. "Do you question my wisdom?"

Vren cringed and didn't reply.

"Do you question my strength?" Mordecai asked, further angered by the non-answer.

The Secondboy pulled a handful of newly-braided plaits over his shoulder and petted them nervously. "It is only that . . . it is only that you seem to be suffering."

The cleric smirked at the lie. "I can withstand such irritations." Then, as though piercing a fog, Vren's exact words struck Mordecai's mind: _"—a patch of scales on your jaw."_ Horrified, Mordecai lifted the _Kagaor ki Tamal_ and checked his face. Just as Vren had said, the brown scales which disfigured his neck now crept up the right side of his face.

A cold anger burned in the cleric's lungs. _It's not fair!_ he thought. _I spent decades pursuing this mirror! I sacrificed so much . . . and now, it tries to curse me, its rightful master?_ The rage seemed to race in his veins, making his pulse pound—a heartbeat in his ears, rendering him deaf.

Cat approached him and bumped his leg, rubbing her forehead against him as if to comfort him. But he didn't want reassurances from a beast! With a growl, he kicked the cat, sending her flying several feet into the undergrowth. Her screech of pain rent the air, easing Mordecai's anger, and the cleric was amused by the way she crawled away, hurt. Still, the cleric did not feel in control, which left him feeling the need to reassert his dominance, reestablish his power.

It was too frustrating! To have this power literally in his hands, found and stolen by his own cleverness, and yet to still not be the master of the situation. Vren knew it, too—he could see Mordecai's weakness. The cleric glared at the Secondboy, who had stood.

Mordecai had to assure Vren's obedience. While he fought the mirror, he couldn't afford to have anyone challenge his authority or question his strength. Yes, he had to beat the coward into submission.

His mind made up, Mordecai turned toward Vren with a wolfish grin. The Secondboy froze, perfectly mute and wide-eyed. Five strides brought the cleric to the shaking drow. When Mordecai was within arm's reach, Vren grew pale and collapsed before the cleric could begin. Mordecai smirked, assuming it to be a sign of cowardice, and raised his fist. "I shall teach you not to question my authority!"

* * *

By dawn, Tai could tell the High Forest was destined for another scorching day. The priest wondered briefly if nature had decided to skip the rest of spring and move straight to summer. Larks, cardinals, and blue jays swooped from the trees to the ground, gathering their breakfast, but even the birds seemed less energetic than normal, as though the heat had sapped their strength. 

While Nyx and Jarlaxle went to fill everyone's water containers and gather some food, Tai helped Entreri break down camp. The assassin worked quickly, obviously bent on starting their travels early, so they completed their task before the others returned. Not one to waste time, Entreri removed a whetting stone from his bag, preparing to sharpen his dagger.

Tai watched Entreri as he worked and wondered if the assassin was, at that moment, imaging slipping the weapon through Mordecai's ribs. Although Tai now understood part of Entreri's rage, it seemed odd to the priest that he had picked a man so violent, angry, and cold to befriend. In that moment, a truth that Tai didn't prefer to consider was thrown in sharp relief: Entreri was exactly the kind of man Tai normally executed by Hoar's vengeance. The priest sighed; the thought was one he tried to avoid, just like he'd been trying to avoid two other uncomfortable questions: was Entreri really a fellow survivor? And how should Tai feel about Entreri as a person, given that he was, in fact, a criminal? Because of his experiences with the man, Tai found that the first question disturbed him the most; after all, upon learning of Entreri's suffering at the hands of his family, Tai's initial reaction had been to see the man as a survivor and to therefore take hope for himself.

"How long have you worked as an assassin?" Tai asked, thinking once again of the rumors he had heard about Entreri.

The assassin paused at the seemingly random question and looked at Tai. "Since I was fourteen."

Tai nodded, and Entreri resumed sharpening. Fourteen? This man _must_ have let his rage destroy him; he had spent a lifetime in darkness! How many had he killed?

The priest bit his lip, now equally disturbed by both his lingering questions. The man's anger, when added to the facts about his life, suggested someone who had only survived in the physical sense. He had reacted much the same way Tai had responded to the murder of his older brother: rage and bitterness.

Rage and bitterness . . . like the anger Tai felt toward Mordecai? That anger that, a few days earlier, Entreri had warned him to not allow consume him? And bitterness like the cynicism Tai had voiced over Jarlaxle the day before?

. . . was Tai losing the battle again, like he had over his brother? The priest frowned, deeply disturbed.

"I've not seen you make that facial expression before," Entreri quipped. "You look like someone just offered to feed you Mordecai's raw entrails."

The sudden mental imagine produced by those words made Tai snort. "Just pondering my own cynicism."

"You mean your comment about wise men being fools who lived? Or you summation of Jarlaxle?" Entreri had assumed the best of his unreadable masks. "There is both practicality and accuracy to your words about Jarlaxle. But remember that your new insights are just that—insights. If you maintain anger over them, you'll live a life of hatred."

Again with the warning. And Tai suspected that the advice was unusual coming from the assassin; Jarlaxle would likely be shocked if he heard the man speak so. Entreri seemed to only say such things when he and Tai were alone. The priest looked away, feeling another surge of possessive friendship toward the assassin. "Thank you," he said quietly. "I'll try to keep that balance in mind."

Entreri looked momentarily disgruntled, as though his own words had made him uncomfortable, and Tai hid a smile. The assassin seemed to have problems showing his care. But the fact he had found it within himself to care was a sign that the assassin had hope. Entreri was offering Tai advice, and perhaps wisdom or companionship.

. . . just as Tai, in turn, wanted to help Entreri. Was there hope from them both, then?

"I'm glad you're here, now," Tai said after a lengthy pause.

Entreri paused once more in the sharpening of his dagger and studied Tai, apparently sensing the priest's deeper meaning. "So you've said before. And as I have said before, is it not strange for a priest of justice such as yourself to pursue the company of an assassin?"

The priest chuckled, remembering the conversation he and Entreri had held over the unconscious form of Hector, the priest of Tyr. "And as I replied at the time, it was an issue of wanting to convert you to the ways of Hoar. And I still must say what a fine scourge of evil men you would make! You wouldn't struggle, as I have, with showing no mercy." The priest frowned again, realizing that after his experience with Mordecai, he might not struggle any more, either.

Entreri had smirked at Tai's first words, but the expression faded. "I kill those men already, and not in the name of a god."

Tai refocused on his friend. "Yes, you kill them all without distinction." The priest said the words softly, as a truth and not a judgment, although he expected to be glowered at anyway.

To Tai's surprise, Entreri's stern stare lasted only a moment. The assassin seemed to recede within himself for a minute, then shook his head as if to clear it. "I have done what was necessary."

Tai called upon Hoar's strength and spoke boldly. "You have gained no joy from it." But even as he said the words, he thought, _which is something I must keep in mind for myself._

Entreri pinned the priest with a cold glare, one which spoke of much torture should Tai continue with his words. "Your assumptions and your interference will _gain_ you only agony."

The priest had to calm his racing pulse before he could continue. "I speak only out of friendship, because I wish for your happiness."

Enteri snorted, as though dismissing the idea, and resumed sharpening his dagger.

Tai smiled to himself, for once again Entreri's words did not quite align with his actions. That the man was at war with himself over his beliefs, attitudes, and past was clear. As Tai had told Jarlaxle in their long ago discussion about the assassin, Entreri was trying too hard to justify what he knew was wrong deep inside.

Tai's words were true, he believed. Yet he had to admit that as an attributer of vengeance, he had been trying hard not to judge Entreri in need of execution. He wished deeply for the man's salvation, so much so that Entreri's near death from the _Kagaor ki Tamal's_ lightning strike had terrified the priest. It was a strange line to walk: Tai personally knew the destruction that rape could wage upon a soul. However, as a priest of Hoar, Tai also accepted what most people didn't: every person is responsible for their own actions regardless of how they might have suffered. Every human ever born would experience agony, just as the gods did. Good humans—like goodly gods—would not make others suffer because they were in pain.

And Entreri had done just that: he'd spent a lifetime lashing out at others because he felt anger. Tai suspected that Entreri himself would admit to living a life grounded in hatred. That meant Tai was the only one who wanted to deny the truth, and he wanted to deny it because of his love for the man and his soul.

However, Tai's thoughts brought him back to the fact he knew something about Entreri that he shouldn't. "I know," he said simply.

Entreri stowed away his newly sharpened dagger and gave Tai a questioning look.

"I'm not sure Jarlaxle really meant . . . I mean . . ." Tai paused. Who was he kidding? Jarlaxle was the most paternalistic creature he'd ever met. "He meant to help. I really believe he did. But from his words, I was able to deduce . . ." The priest stopped, too afraid for Jarlaxle's continued existence to finish.

"Deduce what?" Entreri asked coldly.

Tai stood and turned away, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're so cynical. And you've been an assassin so long . . ."

It was no good. The priest couldn't tell Entreri what Jarlaxle had revealed—the assassin would likely try to kill Jarlaxle, and they needed the elf for their fight with Mordecai, if nothing else. But more than that was Entreri's pride. The man would be humiliated if Tai revealed that he knew, and Tai cared too much for the man to embarrass him.

Fortunately, Tai had another question he could ask. He turned and faced Entreri. "What do you really think of friendship?"

"Friends make you weak," Entreri answered instantly. "Why? Did Jarlaxle imply I thought differently?"

Tai bit his lip. What to say now? He didn't want to lie and say yes.

Entreri was glowering. "That damned drow needs to quit attending to other people's business."

The priest cringed, imaging Jarlaxle sliced into neat quarters.

"Friendship is a weakness," Entreri explained tersely. "If you put your trust in someone and rely on them, they'll betray you, and you'll die. If you take responsibility for others, you'll get yourself killed. Such self-sacrifice is defeatist."

Entreri's inner darkness, once again. "There has to be a place in between," Tai said.

"Partial self-sacrifice?" Entreri snorted.

Tai shook his head. "'If you don't like the answer, make a new one,'" he said, quoting an old proverb from Tethyr.

"A truth?" Entreri asked.

"You're the most determined man I've ever met," Tai replied. "You tell me. But would life not be more joyful if friendship added more to your experiences than it detracted?"

Entreri snorted and didn't directly answer the question. "At least you sound more like yourself in saying that."

Tai was momentarily surprised, but then he thought about his words. "If I do sound more like myself, does that not mean I failed to learn my lesson?" he asked. "Does that not make me the kind of fool who will get himself killed?" His half-smile was ironic.

Entreri's look was dark, but Tai could tell the anger wasn't directed at him. "We've already established that it will get you killed. But in your case, I think your words are more indicative of the fact you may survive your experiences with your essence intact."

_I'm an exception to Enteri's rule?_ Tai thought in wonder. _How did I manage to accomplish that feat?_ Then the meaning behind the assassin's words hit him.

"I might survive with my essence intact?" the priest echoed. "You mean to say that maintaining the spirit of my personality and convictions through such an assault is strength?"

Entreri's expression turned distinctly grumpy, and the assassin didn't answer immediately. The sound of approaching laughter stopped any chance of a delayed response.

Jarlaxle and Nyx entered the clearing, then, and rejoined the group. The monk was carrying berries and the group's water flasks, which was what Tai expected them both to be carrying. Jarlaxle, however, was holding a solid white cat, which was curled into his arms with its head buried in the crook of his elbow. Both the drow and the monk were smiling as though they had been trading jokes or teasing during their chore.

"Are you two rested?" Jarlaxle asked.

"A cat?" Entreri replied with narrowed eyes, and Tai had to agree with his skepticism.

The drow's grin could have lit an entire city. "Yes! Isn't she beautiful?"

Nyx was shaking her head, apparently amused by Jarlaxle's antics. "He's been praising its beauty since the moment he saw it. He even healed its limp—apparently it was hurt."

The drow petted the cat's back. "Of course I healed it!"

Entreri sighed. "Leave it to you to find something extravagant." He accepted his canteen and some berries from Nyx as he rose to his feet. "You may be as silly as you like, but we've wasted enough time here. Let's continue. We can eat as we walk."

"So impatient!" Jarlaxle teased.

"Like a blood hound on a trail," Nyx added, and the drow laughed with her.

Entreri ignored them and took point, and Tai took position about five feet behind him, his thoughts consumed with the assassin's words. He wished he could have continued the conversation, but he also empathized with Entreri's need to find Mordecai quickly. It was past time to end their mission here.

* * *

"What do you mean, we're lost?" 

Mordecai's shout sliced through the quiet air of the forest, scattering squirrels from their homes. Unappeased with this display, the cleric punched Vren squarely in the chest, and the Secondboy collapsed to the ground like a feather pillow. Mordecai took advantage of the situation and kicked Vren for good measure. They had been traveling since daybreak in the suffocating heat, yet they seemed to be walking in circles again.

From the ground, Vren glared at Mordecai and grasped his chest. "You are the one leading. If we are lost, it is your fault!"

"If you thought we were lost, why did you not speak up sooner!" the cleric yelled, even more enraged. He kicked the Secondboy twice more, catching him in the arm and bruising him. The action caused the scales on Mordecai's torso, neck, and legs to ignite with itching, and the cleric stopped to wildly scratch. "Damn these scales!" he yelled and kicked Vren again to vent his anger.

Stomping away from the bleeding Secondboy, Mordecai chose a fairly level patch of ground and began pacing. He had to clear his head. So many things did not make sense! Why was he growing scales? Why did the grass wilt as he walked over it? Why did any trees he leaned against wither? And why was he so confused! A haze seemed to have descended in his mind, blurring his thoughts and—he admitted secretly to himself—confusing his sense of direction. The cleric clenched his fists, instantly angry again. How unfair could life be? Why were these things happening to him? Mordecai turned and punched the nearest tree, which instantly became oddly brittle to the touch, but the rage didn't abate.

Trying to calm himself, Mordecai attempted to commune with Vhaeraun again; surely his god could help him. It wasn't his prescribed time for prayer, but the cleric had been unable to commune or channel divine power the night before. Mordecai stood very still, closed his eyes, and reached with all his soul toward Vhaeraun, but it seemed like a wall stood between him and the masked god. Had Vhaeraun abandoned him?

Mordecai opened his eyes with a curse and kicked the suddenly withering tree, then he picked up the nearest rock and threw it at the cowering Vren. No prayers! Endless itching! A foggy mind! "This is not fair!" he screamed. "I have done all that was asked of me! I served Vhaeraun faithfully; I carried out the orders of my family. I have become the wielder of a powerful artifact. Why am I being tortured so?"

At the yelling, several birds flew out the trees. The racket of the crashing branches did nothing to help the cleric's mood, but with great effort, he subdued himself. He had to check for signs of pursuit so he could gauge how close his enemies were. Then again, all his meandering might actually buy him time to finish mastering the mirror.

"I must prevail," Mordecai mumbled to himself, checking for tracks. His skills at tracking people through forests were lacking, but surely he could find some clue. "I will be victorious." He was headed back toward the ruins—he was sure of it! "I will find them and kill them all!" But wait. They were tracking him, and he was trying to ambush them. No, they were in the ruins, and he was headed for them . . . No, that wasn't right, either. What was he doing again? "Oh, yes," the cleric mumbled to himself, "checking for tracks . . ."

But if they were tracking him, how could he find tracks? Weren't they behind him? Or to the side? Or . . .?

Mordecai growled in frustration, realizing but not wanting to admit that he didn't know what he was doing. He was lost, unbalanced, and utterly confused. It was the heat! Yes, he could blame it on the heat. That was all. He just needed to gather his thoughts, and quickly, before Chalithra or Jarlaxle and Pets caught up with him.

Mordecai wanted to panic but stopped himself. Yes, all he really needed was to gather his thoughts. Just gather his thoughts . . .

* * *

Mid-morning. Mordecai's movements had become so erratic that Tai and his companions were having difficulty catching up with him. Entreri had said it was like tracking a mad dog, and the priest supposed the analogy worked—the blue swirls on Jaralaxle's magical device certainly suggested that Mordecai was foaming at the mouth. 

Entreri had driven the group at a terse pace all morning. Only a few moments before, Jarlaxle—who still carried the rather shy cat—had taken point with the assassin in order to reassess their strategy, which left the hot and increasingly tired Tai to walk beside Nyx. His friend seemed happy to get a moment alone with him.

"How are you holding up?" the monk asked. Wisps of auburn hair escaped her crown braid to hang in her face; despite the length of her hair, after a few fights or a few days—whichever came first—the shortest strands near her face would work free. Tai thought it made her look less severe.

"Well enough, I suppose," the priest replied. He bit his lip, unsure about admitting his thoughts, but he spoke his mind because the day seemed surreal to him, as though he were caught on a moment between reality and myth, the violent and the mundane. In that light, Tai felt no need to hold back. "Right after Mordecai escaped, I wondered why Hoar didn't grant us victory during the fight. But then I realized that Hoar has impeccable timing; I suspect that greater poetic justice will be served when we face Mordecai again."

Nyx nodded. "Wise words. It's good to hear you speak so. We both have cynical moments, I know, but . . ."

The monk seemed lost for words, but Tai understood. His cynical quips the day before had worried his friend. Tai admitted the world was now a darker place than it had been before, but if anything his dedication to vengeance was growing stronger, he thought. At the very least, he wanted to ensure that none of the people he cared about experienced the level of pain he had.

Nyx seemed to have found her words. "I can tell you're getting back in touch with Hoar." Brown eyes briefly eased from tenseness to joy.

Tai smiled at Nyx, appreciating her attempt to bolster him prior to the impending battle, and watched her return smile, which lit her face. Thinking of Jarlaxle and Entreri's earlier conversation, the priest wondered if the assassin could indeed see beauty in Nyx's pale skin and smattering of freckles. Would he like brown eyes and auburn hair on a woman? Would he prefer a warrior of conviction and loyalty? Tai pondered the question in earnest, because for all her flares of temper, Nyx obviously found Entreri attractive.

"Master Jarlaxle seems to be trying to manipulate love," the priest ventured, then chuckled as a faint blush stained Nyx's cheeks and the bridge of her nose.

"For good or ill, that creature seems determined to shape the world as he sees fit," she said.

"He's stubborn and opinionated," Tai replied, "intervening whether his actions are welcome or not. Reminds me of someone I know." He grinned to take the sting from the words.

Nyx shook her head. "Yes, yes, I know. Paternalism. I want to act in your best interests, but I admit I've taken it upon myself to define what your best interests are. Please forgive me."

Tai squeezed her arm. "Apology accepted. But, frankly, you're not alone." Tai momentarily stared at the ground. A moment of silence descended upon them, then he continued. "I want to show Entreri a better way—I want him to find peace or to at least be happier. But I can't force my views on him. I can only stand by his side or tell him what I've learned."

Nyx nodded. "True. You can't make someone change; you can only encourage them to do so."

"I hope he finds his way," Tai said softly. "He's such a fighter, it just seems wrong that he would fail to claim final victory over his life."

The monk gave Tai a strange look, and the priest realized he was saying too much. Nyx could make inferences as easily as Tai could, and Tai didn't want to be like Jarlaxle—even if it were accidentally. Tai quickly changed subjects. "You said before we left on our journey that I needed to learn to pity Mordecai because it would crush his pride. I'm not quite to that point, but I realize that all the weakness lies in him, not me."

"Quite right." Nyx reached out and slipped her arm around Tai's shoulder, hugging him to her for a moment. "You and I have executed enough men like Mordecai to know they are weak. You can't let them destroy you because it would grant them a power that's real."

Tai nodded. "I agree." He glanced toward Entreri then, wondering how the assassin had approached the issue. The priest couldn't imagine that Entreri would see his abusers as anything other than spineless. In his own mind, surely Entreri considered himself victor—the stronger man.

Tai sighed and watched the assassin talk to Jarlaxle, wondering what it would take to help the man. Entreri had raised an eyebrow at the animated drow, and Tai listened to his deep voice as he spoke. The elf laughed at Entreri's words, throwing out one hand in his typical overdramatic gesture, and to Tai it seemed oddly normal. Too normal for a day such as this one. With their battle with Mordecai merely hours away, it seemed strange that Jarlaxle should be laughing, that squirrels should be running up trees, that birds should be singing. The only thing that seemed normal was Entreri's glower, which caused Tai to sigh a second time.

"Walk with me," Tai whispered to the man. _Between us, we can find a way. Let us defeat our pasts together, whatever it takes._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"_Self-Lies"_

As the morning had progressed, the heat and sunshine had faded into a cool wind and a gloomy sky. The breeze flipped the tree leaves backwards, showing their silvery undersides, and thunder echoed through the vaulted grey clouds. Birds chirped and hopped branches with urgency, stopping only to fuss with their wings, and small animals scurried for cover in the increasing darkness of the forest.

Now that midday had arrived, Mordecai decided his main task was to determine his location, and he had given that task to Vren. Once the Secondboy had established their whereabouts, Mordecai sent Vren to scout out the area and look for tracks or other signs of pursuit. The cleric couldn't imagine that Chalithra or Jarlaxle and Pets were far away. If the Jaezred Chaulssin had located and attacked Mordecai in less than twenty-four hours, he knew Chalithra and Jarlaxle and Pets would both find him in less than thirty-six hours. This meant the cleric was out of time.

Given Mordecai's increasingly foul mood, Vren had been more than willing to take the task of scouting. The cleric laughed at the thought of Vren's swollen left eye and bloody lip, and he positively cherished the memory of having sliced off the end of the Secondboy's elaborate braid and then pulling out a chunk of his soft, silver hair. The Secondboy had withstood the endless beatings well, no doubt from over a century's practice at the hands of his sisters, but when Mordecai had taken his hair, the drow had nearly cried. The cleric laughed again, imaging the tears standing in the vain elf's oversized golden eyes as Mordecai had scattered his hair into the wind.

Despite the abuse, Mordecai didn't fear that Vren would run away since the Secondboy was too terrified of the cleric to try. With this assurance in mind, Mordecai located a fallen tree branch and rested while he awaited Vren's return. However, within moments the saplings and grass around Mordecai wilted and died, and the fallen log crumbled into dust, dumping the cleric on his behind. Cursing, the cleric stared at the mirror which was still strapped to the belt pack across his chest. The mirror appeared inactive, but obviously it was drawing power from the trees and plants. Mordecai could not understand it. As a magical item, it should have its own energy source; it shouldn't have to drain nature in order to build power.

One last time, Mordecai cried to commune with Vhaeraun, hoping to ask his deity about the mirror's properties, but the masked god ignored his entreaties. Even more disturbed, and unsure why his god was angry with him, Mordecai stood and brushed himself off. The mirror stole the very life force from the forest, and half of the cleric's entire body was covered in brown scales. What had gone wrong?

The breeze picked up, filtering through the tree branches, and a ghostly, hissing laugh mixed with the shimmering leaves. Mordecai froze and stared into the forest, trying to detect the owner of the laugh.

"Is it so difficult to ascertain?" a hissing voice asked, slurring each _s_. "Do you not know what _kagor ki tamal_ means? It means 'the mirror of convergence.' Did you not wonder what 'convergence' implied?"

Mordecai's breath seemed to solidify in his chest, and he gasped twice before he could properly inhale again. The voice had spoken in his mind—the voice of a telepath or the voice of a god.

"Who are you?" the drow demanded.

"I am Sseth, the Slitherer Supreme, and I will be your god. You will worship none other than I." The voice filled with disdain. "But you are not a worthy creature, pathetic drow. A Scaleless One does not deserve the right to wield my divine artifacts or cast spells in my name; therefore, I have done what must be done. You will become one of us."

"No!" Mordecai screamed. "I did not realize this mirror was yours, I—"

A lancing pain pierced Mordecai's abdomen, silencing his words and causing him to fall to the ground. The pain intensified, a burning sensation that raced across his legs and then consumed his muscles. The ex-cleric thrashed upon the ground, choked cries tearing his throat, and the pain clouded his mind so that the sounds of ripping cloth failed to register upon his brain.

When the pain had passed, Mordecai lay upon the ground, surrounded by dead grass and withering trees, and stared into the canopy of branches above him. Several minutes passed before he could catch his breath and recover. "What . . . have you done?" he croaked.

"Normally, the Scaleless Ones which my servants put to use must drink an elixir that forces them to understand our ways," the god explained. "Such creatures are called the Tainted Ones. However, since you are the wielder of the _Kagaor ki Tamal_, you must be something more. The one who converges with me must be of my kind, especially since our joining comes at a time when I must break free from Set's imprisonment of me."

Panic shot through Mordecai's body like a lightning strike, and it granted him the strength to partially sit up and examine his torso. His chest, arms, and entire upper body were humanoid with a mix of black skin and brown scales, but his abdomen and legs had been replaced by a snake's tail. "No," he moaned. "No!"

"Do you see yourself as a monster?" Sseth asked, his whispery voice echoing through Mordecai's mind.

"Scales . . ." Mordecai murmured in horror. "A tail. My legs!"

"You are a monster," the voice taunted, "but it has nothing to do with your outward appearance. Your ebony skin doesn't make you inherently monstrous, nor does your improved skin of scales. Likewise, your maleness does not make you monstrous, or whatever your drow priestesses might call it. No, the monster is in your mind and soul; it's the essence of your being, expressed through your actions, words, and desires. Yes, you are a monster, and you shall serve me well."

Mordecai screamed, and the voice grew silent. No, it wasn't true! It was a nightmare! He was not—!

Vren burst through the tree line and slid to a halt, staring down at the mangled body of the ex-cleric. "By Lady Lolth, what has happened to you?"

Mordecai rolled over onto his stomach, concentrated on coiling his lower half, and then pushed himself into a standing position. After a moment, he found his center of balance and realized he was in command of his body again. "Sseth," he whispered, feeling as though he were only speaking in a dream. "Some reptilian god. He said that . . . he claimed the mirror . . ." The drow screamed again, a haunting roar of terror and agony.

Vren backed away a step. "Destroy the mirror! Or return it to the ruins. Maybe you can—"

Mordecai's anger and panic ripped through the remnants of his self-control. He tightened the muscles in his lower half and sprang forward, cutting off the Secondboy's sentence by grasping his neck. "Silence!" He wrapped both hands around his neck, lifting his feet off the ground and shaking him. Vren tried to yell out, but the chokehold prevented any sound.

"I'm sick of your high-pitched voice!" Mordecai shrieked. "I'm sick of your pretty hair and your prissy gait and your cowardly tactics!" He sprang forward again, trapping Vren against a wilting tree and then jerking back one arm to pummel the Secondboy's face. "If you hadn't slowed me down, if you hadn't destroyed my plans, this wouldn't have happened. It was your fear, your ineptitude, and your pride that caused this!" He grasped Vren's shoulders and thrashed his body against the tree.

"Stop!" the Secondboy shouted, and he tried to kick away from Mordecai, to wrench out of his hands.

Mordecai, however, was strengthened by his rage. He grabbed one of Vren's shoulders and one of his legs and reared back, then he threw all his weight forward, shifting the drow's body so that his spine cracked against the tree. The Secondboy cried out once, then slumped, his injuries too great to bear.

Mordecai tossed the corpse onto the ground and then, with effort, slammed his tail down on the face one last time. His rage temporarily abated, the ex-cleric crouched and wrapped his arms around himself. Why had this happened to him? It wasn't his fault! He'd only been following the orders of the Jaezred Chaulssin, acting upon the communal wishes of his secret house and their agenda. He'd performed his duty to the best of his ability, and even though he'd made a mistake as it concerned Jarlaxle, his error was not so great as to deserve such punishment! It wasn't fair!

He would not accept this fate, Mordecai decided in desperation. Maybe Vren suggestions hadn't been completely ridiculous after all. He would take the _Kagaor ki Tamal_ back to the Ssesartas Ruins, back to the temple in which the mirror had been housed, and return it to the altar. Perhaps, if Mordecai put the mirror back in place and then removed the snake's tooth from the altar, the magical barrier would reform. The ex-cleric couldn't imagine that anything less would truly free him of the mirror's curse.

With that single thought in mind, Mordecai marshaled as much command over his warped body as he could and headed for the saurian ruins.

* * *

Steel-grey storm clouds had amassed on the horizon, threatening to douse the forest in darkness, and an occasional flash of lightning backlit the dark clouds. Gazing up through the canopy of tree limbs, Jarlaxle contemplated one such burst of lightning, which reminded him of the mirror his adversary now carried. The drow had spent the morning pondering strategies for fighting Mordecai even as he tried to comfort his recently-acquired cat. Strangely, petting the cat and pre-planning seemed to go well together. 

Noon had arrived, but since Mordecai's wanderings suggested he was heading back toward the ruins, Jarlaxle and his companions didn't stop for lunch. With vengeance so close to being realized, none of the four companions lacked energy, so the group decided to eat their rations as they walked. Tai and Nyx volunteered to stop at a stream to fill everyone's canteens and then run to catch up. Although Jarlaxle was willing to stop and wait for them, Entreri continued, bent on wasting no time.

The drow sighed and stayed by Entreri's side as the priest and monk fell out of sight. Perhaps it was just as well, since the two mercenaries finally had a chance to speak without fear of being overheard. Jarlaxle wanted to discuss the tactics he'd devised, but Entreri halted in his track suddenly and stared at him with grim determination, which the elf did not take as a good sign.

"What did you say?" the assassin demanded. "You've been trying to play god again, I can tell."

Jarlaxle continued petting the cat to offset his tension. "What did I say to whom?" he asked lightly, trying to hide his sinking feeling. The hint he'd dropped to Tai had been too heavy, and if Entreri found out . . .

"To Tai. He asked me some odd questions about friendship this morning and said you'd been talking to him." Cold grey eyes seemed to drive stakes through Jarlaxle's chest.

The elf shrugged, immediately latching onto the option of turning the conversation to his advantage. "What? Will you not admit you feel friendship for the poor boy? He's highly intelligent and very wise for his age; what possible drawback could there be?"

Enteri's glower intensified. It'd be two stakes plus a sword, if Jarlaxle wasn't careful. "I warned you to stay out of my business." He turned and started forward again, his terse stride revealing his anger.

Jarlaxle sprinted a few steps to catch up. "I'm not trying to run your life, I promise. In truth, I was really trying to help Tai—the boy's been so uprooted and off-balance. He really needs the sense of solid camaraderie." Which was true, the elf thought to himself, even though the assassin would hopefully never know the specifics of the "camaraderie."

Entreri abruptly halted again and scowled at the elf. "Somehow I find your definition of 'help' suspect, and Tai no more needs your heavy-handed influence than I do."

Jarlaxle grinned and repositioned the cat, which had begun squirming at his irregular motions. "So you're saying my help is too meddlesome?"

"Yes."

The elf chuckled. _Do I really have a choice, considering how reserved, sour, and stoic you are?_ "Is it so terrible to ponder friendship with Tai? After all, we'd both be silly to pretend we don't care about the boy."

Entreri's glare reached basilisk proportions.

"Truly, my friend, are you and I not stronger for our association with each other?" Jarlaxle threw one hand wide. "Why not another? You know we're better off with a cleric in our arsenal. By that logic, what would it hurt to admit that you seek vengeance for Tai as well as yourself? The boy looks up to you and draws strength from your strength."

The assassin snorted, his eyes narrowing with disdain. "Every man should stand for himself and draw on his own strength." Again, the man turned away and stalked forward, his chin titled upward as if to say _This conversation is over._

Jarlaxle, however, wasn't finished. "You say that as though it's a weakness to do otherwise," he called after Entreri. "But even a man who relies upon his own strength relies upon something, in this case upon rest and relaxation to rebuild his strength. Why would it be a weakness to rely upon other things?"

"Reliance requires trust," the assassin called back.

The drow shook his head over Entreri's typical response and followed him. The assassin would never admit it, but Jarlaxle knew some bond existed between Entreri and the boy—something shared in their disgust with hypocrites; something mutual in their condemnation of criminals, even if their methods were dissimilar. But most of all, they shared a bond that communicated both pain and courage. The need the two men had for that camaraderie seemed very human to Jarlaxle and appealed to him in a way he couldn't quite name.

When the drow determined that Entreri wasn't going to elaborate, he ventured a more dangerous tactic. "I also think the boy stands for something you find value in. After all, he refuses to be crushed, and he lives by conviction. Like you, he is far too strong and stubborn to stay down or give up."

Entreri bristled and stopped so he could face the elf again. "Did I ask your opinion?"

Jarlaxle drew up face to face with the man and set the squirming cat on the ground. Since he'd admitted long ago that he actually cared for Entreri, the drow found he actually wasn't in the mood to play games. So for once, he dropped all pretense and tried to reach out to the man. "No, but as your friend, I'll tell you anyway. All the questions I've asked lead to a single point: what does Artemis Entreri really want from life? Does he want to be at peace, or does he want to remain angry? He can have anything he wishes, after all, he need only to decide."

"Artemis Entreri wants annoying drow elves to stop asking him questions and trying to rearrange his life."

Jarlaxle smiled but didn't give up. The drow might not understand friendship well, but he did know such a relationship meant that he couldn't allow the assassin to retain this last lie. "What benefit is there to anger?"

"What benefit is there to greed?" Entreri replied. "Annoying questions may go both ways. It is obvious that you've decided to build a surface empire, but how is the eternal search for wealth and power any different than the game you played in Menzoberranzan? Did you not leave the drow in order to escape their hell?"

Jarlaxle was silent for a moment, struck by the truth to the assassin's words. Shortly after Tai had been raped, the elf had realized he might want companionship more than wealth or power, but he had still desired an empire separate from the drow. While he had decided never to return home, he saw no reason to give up his dreams and aspirations, for life had no purpose if he did not reach for the stars. But was it wrong to build a new band among his human comrades? Was it wrong to persuade them to pursue a kingdom of riches?

Entreri had continued speaking. "You believe you're asking me to overcome myself." The assassin smirked. "But I won't let you ask of me something you won't ask of yourself."

Jarlaxle experienced a strange mental image of himself as an orange being nailed to a tree; Entreri had effectively put a sword through his gut. "When did Artemis Entreri profess to have wisdom? Very well, I shall humor you. If we did such a thing, what would we become?"

The assassin sneered. "Why ask? Are you worried?"

The sound of approaching voices alerted the mercenaries to the return of Nyx and Tai, so Jarlaxle picked up the cat and the two resumed walking.

"It might require us to sacrifice some aspect of ourselves," the drow pointed out, the mere thought of a life without dreams causing a cold wave to wash through his chest.

Entreri kept his gaze on the trail and didn't even glance at Jarlaxle as he replied. "I will always be me—practical, logical, and efficient. As to what else I can become, who is to say?" He shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. "Unlike you, I wouldn't pretend to know, but I can say you'll always be a successful but annoying drow with terrible taste in jewelry and clothing."

The cold wave seemed to recede, and Jarlaxle laughed. "So we're in the act of becoming?"

"I'm becoming," Entreri said. "I'm becoming tired of your heavy-handed influence and want to cut out your tongue and use it for a tassel."

Biting humor to the very end. Entreri would, indeed, always be Entreri. The drow grinned and began petting his new cat again. "And if I become?"

The assassin gave Jarlaxle a slanted glance, a wicked gleam lighting his eyes. "You will become dead if you don't stop 'helping' Tai and me."

The elf shook his head in a dramatic show of exasperation, and despite the touch of drama, Jarlaxle was genuinely unsure how to proceed. "You would deny a friend all chances to help you, would you not?"

"I've already told you that I don't need your help," Entreri said, pushing a tree limb out of their path, "but even if I did, 'help' does not involve revealing things to Tai behind my back. If you want me to assist Tai, then allow me to assist him and stay out of the way."

Jarlaxle smiled, mentally patting himself on the back for how far Entreri had come. Still, the drow knew that this "heavy-handed" influence was no game, as did the assassin, and therefore he silently recanted his mistake. He also thought it wise to apologize so the issue might be settled, by which he hoped Entreri would never find out exactly what Tai had learned. "I beg your pardon. I suppose I grow impatient and, ah, step outside of my bounds."

The assassin raised an eyebrow. "Proving that an old dog really is too senile to learn new tricks. However, you'd do wise to remember this: if I decide to speak to Tai of friendship, or any other topic of concern, I will do so on my own time, and you will have to accept that timing. And if you don't, next time I'll slice off whatever steps across the bounds—your tongue, no doubt—and maybe that will help you to retain your patience."

Having learned to appreciate both Entreri and his companionship, Jarlaxle actually found himself experiencing a moment's remorse. As a leader, suffering unnecessary delays proved difficult, but the elf understood what Entreri was telling him, though he'd never admit it. So with his customary smile, he shifted the cat's weight in order to lift one finger and wag it. "Violence? Now, now—I thought you implied you were overcoming yourself."

The assassin was apparently unimpressed with this rebuke. "You're not dead yet."

* * *

Lightning cracked across the sky, causing thunder to rip the air. Black clouds massed on the horizon, rolling like boiling water and beating away the dying sunset. Welcoming the energy of the storm, Mordecai slithered between the trees as quickly as his new body would allow. He was near the ruins—he was sure! He would return the mirror, recommitting it to ancient dust and the press of time, and maybe on the way he could find and kill at least one of his adversaries. 

In his mind, Sseth returned once again, using the conduit of the _Kagaor ki Tamal_ to torture the ex-cleric of Vhaeraun further.

"You believe the drow to be the superior race, no?" a soft voice taunted via telepathy. "If only you could see how insignificant you are, but no doubt a Scaleless One hasn't the intellect to comprehend such things. My improvements upon your body aren't enough to change that."

Mordecai stared at the brown scales covering his hands. "I am not a snake now?" he spat.

"Not a snake," the voice corrected. "You are something more than a Tainted One, but always something less than worthy. I will grant you the use of my divine power, however, for which you should be _eternally_ grateful." A hissing laugh raced down the conduit.

Mordecai tried to shut out Sseth's words. The horror of his new body was more than he could bear: not only was his body twisted into some abomination, he had no legs, no feet, and no—no manhood! It was as bad as having been turned into a drider!

Struck with anguish too intense for words, the ex-cleric screamed into the humid air, scattering birds from their perches. Someone had to pay for his agony.

xxx

From the tree cover, Chalithra watched the beast scream. The priestess had experienced difficulty reaching Mordecai, but now that she had, she was stunned by his altered appearance. Obviously, the male had been too weak to handle the mirror's power, but why had the _Kagaor ki Tamal,_ which she had been told was psionic, turned Mordecai into a half-snake?

Ultimately, the reason was meaningless. Chalithra would punish the male, retrieve the mirror, and ascend to the throne of House Tuin'Tarl. Whatever measures her matron mother had taken against her inevitable treachery would fail against a magical artifact this powerful.

Gripping her whip, Chalithra stepped from the shadows and into the path of the beast that had been Mordecai. "You have rebelled against us, so you must die to appease Lolth," she said, taking pleasure in sentencing the upstart male. As she spoke, her breath condensed into little clouds of water vapor, revealing that the air was cooling at an unnatural rate. The drow priestess involuntarily shivered, but when she glanced over her enemy's scaly body, she had to fight off a second shiver, this one of revulsion. "I shall enjoy killing you, for your existence is enough to turn my entrails."

"I can arrange that permanently, if you would like." Mordecai's voice was raspy, his syllables drawn.

"Tell it to the Spider Queen." Chalithra sneered, summoning a surge of divine power into her fingertips. Whispering a command word, she bent to strike the ground with her palm. White lines like strings of light spread across the ground, running over rocks and wilted plants and etching a summoning circle into the ground. Parallel lines intersected, lighting the dirt with a brilliant flash.

With a loud crack as loud as thunder, the fruits of Chalithra's effort rose before her on eight spindly legs—a monstrous black killer graced with thin plated limbs and a single red hourglass painted upon its body.

"Destroy the rebel," she commanded, and the giant spider moved to obey.

Six feet of spider launched at Mordecai, attempting to strike him, but Mordecai's snake-body easily slithered to the side. The spider slid across the ground, its legs digging deep trenches into the dirt. Halting its momentum, the spider turned and scuttled up a large tree.

Chalithra met Mordecai's gaze evenly. She knew he couldn't escape—not with the giant spider up in the canopy.

"Lolth will torture you forever," she said. "Your screams will fill the abyss."

Mordecai didn't answer. Instead, his eyes grew blank, as though he were focusing his energy inward, then his brow furrowed, revealing that his mental task was overwhelming.

Yet within moments, the area around Mordecai froze, ice crystals forming over the wilted grass. Chalithra could only watch as all the leaves on the nearby trees suddenly turned brown, withered, and then fell to the ground. The _Kagaor ki Tamal_ hummed, its surface glowing as it sapped the very life force from the air. Chalithra feel faint, her own strength leaving her, yet the display of power provoked her to take the mirror at any cost.

The spider, now without cover, launched itself from the branches and pounced upon Mordecai. The male seemed to have lost consciousness from his efforts, so he offered no fight as the giant beast stood nearly on top of him. A thin stream of white thread spurted from the spider's abdomen. The creature worked it in its jaws and appendages, wrapping the string about Mordecai and sealing both him and the mirror in an organic casket.

Chalithra, still connected to the spider by the summoning spell, could feel the insect's hunger as it prepared to bite its prey. But before the spider could latch onto the cocoon, a beam of energy pierced the binding. The lightning bolt speared the insect's stomach, shooting out its back and into the sky, where it met with a twin strike launched from a black cloud. The spider shuddered once, then stumbled to the side on wobbling legs. Ooze seeped out from the gaping hole in its stomach armor, working around the burn until bile seemed to pour from every crack in its body.

Chalithra stuttered in rage. "The spider! You mortally wounded one of Lolth's servants!"

Mordecai tore through the webbing, freeing his face. "Just as I will destroy you."

Chalithra growled, wishing to flog the male to death; however, she realized she could not fight Mordecai hand-to-hand or the rest of her life force would be consumed. She had to heal the spider. Summoning more divine power, the priestess stumbled toward the wounded arachnid.

That one step sealed her fate. Chalithra felt Lolth's power drain away from her with such force that she imagined ice crystals forming in her lungs. Shaking, she backed away from the spider. The creature died as she watched, its legs curling up towards the sky like the branches of the dying trees.

From behind the carcass, Mordecai hissed in a sound of victory and tore away the silken strands wrapped about his head and torso. He moved with slow and steady purpose, sticking his chest outward to draw attention to the mirror and pulling his lips away from his teeth in a leer.

Trying to steel herself, Chalithra drew the final remnants of divine power into her hands. She traced a cursed symbol into the air and whispered a spell meant to immobilize the beast. A red glow outlined the symbol, which transferred itself onto Mordecai's chest only to shatter just as the spider's cocoon had. Crimson filaments of light flickered to the ground, disappearing into the dead grass.

In that moment, Chalithra realized with eerie calmness that she would die. A sudden laugh came to her lips. What indignity to die at the hands of a male, to be destroyed by a mirror that absorbed her powers, her ki, and the life force of nature itself!

Chalithra felt the cold whip in her hands, its snake heads dead and unmoving. She had only one chance. _No, I won't allow it. I will not die in weakness,_ she promised herself, taking a breath and sprinting towards Mordecai.

The priestess raised her dead whip above her head and swung it like a flail. A scream escaped her lips, then died just as suddenly as an impact against her stomach stole her breath. Her eyes registered the mirror's flash, a delayed recognition, and the smell of burnt flesh drifted into her nostrils.

The last thing that she saw before she lost consciousness was the madness glowing in Mordecai's crimson eyes and his teeth barred, ready to strike.

xxx

Mordecai descended upon the corpse of the priestess, lashing at the body in rage. He punched her, clawed her, even bit her flesh, tearing away the skin, ripping out chunks of meat, and beating her face until her features were no more than mush. He hated priestesses! Despised Lolth! And more than that, he blamed the goddess and her minions for the fate he had suffered. So he punished the corpse, pummeling its breathless chest, breaking its bones, and ripping out its organs until blood and bile streaked down his arms and chest.

"Bitch!" he screamed. "Pay! Pay for damning me, for torturing me, for getting me cursed by this mirror!"

Faint laughter echoed in Mordecai's mind, and he struck the corpse with his tail, sending it rolling away. He would get rid of the mirror, and as soon as he did, he would exorcise all his rage upon his remaining enemies, beating them until the blood in their throats reduced their cries to mere gurgles. They would all pay for what had befallen him, and he would not rest until their screams became the permanent music lilting in his mind for next seven hundred years.

* * *

Entreri stared down at the mutilated corpse of a drow priestess. The darkness of the forest, which had been doused in shadow by the approaching storm, made it difficult for him to see, but the assassin recognized her as the one he'd fought less than thirty-six hours earlier. He knew who her killer had to be. 

Jarlaxle, who still steadfastly toted around his new cat, exited the trees and joined Entreri, Nyx, and Tai by the priestess. "I didn't see Mordecai, but he can't have gone far."

"I agree," Nyx said quietly. "The blood isn't even dry yet." She knelt down and touched the priestess's bloody arm. "In fact, the body isn't even all the way cold."

Entreri glanced over at Tai, who took in the sight of the disfigured body with a growing frown. The assassin was loath to admit it, but he was concerned for the boy. In Entreri's mind, Tai deserved retribution—he had every right to watch Mordecai be hacked into small pieces. But Entreri feared the boy might not survive the fight, and this feeling, so strange and new, drove the assassin to want to protect the priest. Even though the impulse was the exact opposite to Entreri's modus operandi, he didn't resist. Something in the feeling, at least as it concerned Tai, seemed perfectly reasonable.

"Compassion gets you killed," Entreri muttered to himself with a shake of his head. Had he not just lectured Tai about the dangers of friendship earlier that day?

Jarlaxle, having picked up the words with his keen ears, looked at the assassin and raised an eyebrow, but Entreri shook his head and pointed to the ground.

"See that strange dragging track?" he said, and the group turned their attention to the mark in the dirt.

"How odd," Nyx murmured.

"You think that's Mordecai?" Jarlaxle asked, sounding unconvinced. He pulled out his magical device with one hand and consulted the blue line upon it. "Yes, you would seem to be correct in your assumption."

"It's headed toward the saurian ruins," Entreri said, and immediately began to follow the track.

Tai sprinted a few steps and matched Entreri's stride. He glanced back over his shoulder and called back to Jarlaxle and Nyx. "Hurry. Haven't you noticed the dead trees and grass? There is more at stake here than just vengeance."

Entreri glanced at the boy and frowned, the pulse of concern hitting him again. However, no time remained for him to waste on such feelings, so he took off at a run, knowing the ruins to only be a few hundred feet to the west.

Time had run out.

* * *

_A/N: This chapter was again brought to you by the ADWT. That's right, another Ariel and Darkhelmet production! Bless those who enjoy writing about blood and guts and squishing spiders. LOL! ;) _

If you liked Vren, please don't kill me. I've started a short fic that's to be set in the past and that involves Entreri's time in Menzoberranzan. Vren is slated to make an appearance. In fact, there's a possibility that Vren might have a good-sized role in the story.

Believe it or not, chapter 5 will be the last chapter, so the story is almost finished. There will be 5 chapters and an epilogue, to be precise.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: I'll post the epilogue and author's notes in a few days._

* * *

**Chapter Five**

"_The Answer"_

"Is that Mordecai?" Nyx whispered, her shock evident.

Tai and his companions stood outside the entrance of the inner temple, hidden in shadows. From their vantage point, they could see both the day-old corpses and Mordecai, who was now half snake. The twisted creature frantically searched the altar, an action which solidified Tai's suspicions. He glanced at Nyx and met her fearful brown eyes. She was worried about the battle, he could tell—not the fighting, but her companions' survival. Unfortunately, Tai had no comforting news.

"Yes, that's Mordecai," Tai replied, "and the transformation is Sseth's doing. I'd say Mordecai is displeased by the results, for he seems to be trying to rid himself of the mirror."

Jarlaxle set his cat upon the ground and leaned closer, joining the whispered conversation. "I thought the _Kagaor ki Tamal_ was a channel to Set."

Tai nodded. "Hoar feared it would be, since he knows Set has taken over Sseth's domain." The priest paused, disquieted by what he would have to say next. He gazed around the saurian ruins, collecting his thoughts. Cracked engravings and paintings, covered with vines and dust, spanned the walls from floor to roof. Lost for ages, depictions of war and worship surrounded Tai. The stale air, fractured columns, and dirt spoke of a city long buried, and Tai knew only one reason why Mordecai would return to this place.

"You saw the dead trees and grass along Mordecai's trail," the priest finally continued. "Given his transformation and the death of all living things in his path, I can only assume the mirror remains a channel to Sseth."

Entreri frowned. "What are you saying?"

Tai glanced back into the temple and gazed upon the reptilian Mordecai, who had slumped over the altar in an attitude of defeat. "The mirror is drawing power from its environment, drawing the life force out of plants and people in order to empower Sseth."

"An awakening god," Jarlaxle murmured.

Nyx clenched both fists at her side, her whisper harsh. "We must stop him! If that mirror continues to draw power, there is no telling how many people might die."

"At least four," Jarlaxle said.

Tai knew it to be true, for the drow priestess's mangled corpse proved that Mordecai was exorcising his rage upon his enemies.

"Then we best attack now before the mirror and its god become more powerful," Entreri said. He nodded toward the deep shadows along the room's walls. "If we are careful, we will have the element of surprise."

Tai frowned, biting his lip. He was worried about all his companions, given Mordecai's apparent madness, but he was most concerned about Entreri. What if he died this evening, prior to claiming victory over himself? What if he died before realizing the truth beyond the lies?

But even if Entreri survived, nothing was assured. The assassin might easily choose to spend the rest of his life killing thoughtlessly from anger or pride, just as Tai himself might fail to temper his cynicism with wisdom. Given this, how could Entreri and he save themselves? Tai shook his head. They really couldn't, or they would have already.

Nyx had drawn her nunchaku from her belt, and Entreri had unsheathed his sword and dagger. Tai gathered the divine essence of Hoar within him, and when Jarlaxle nodded, the priest stepped into the temple with his friends.

His prayer was retribution.

* * *

Despite the care with which Tai and Nyx moved—and the perfection of Entreri's and Jarlaxle's stealth—the monk wasn't surprised when Mordecai straightened and glared at them before the companions had sneaked halfway into the temple. Nyx assumed that the _Kagaor ki Tamal_ and its connection to Sseth made it impossible for Mordecai to be ambushed. Once they had been spotted, Jarlaxle apparently chose the bold approach, for he stepped into the light of the magical torches.

"So now you wish to rid yourself of your prized mirror," the drow taunted. "Do you not appreciate the gift it has given you?"

Nyx cringed at Jarlaxle's tactic and watched as Mordecai hissed at them and drew back his shoulders. The torchlight reflected off the mirror, which was strapped to the utility belt across the twisted drow's chest.

"Do not ridicule me, Jarlaxle," Mordecai growled. "You would have taken the mirror for yourself and then met the same fate."

The drow mercenary clucked his tongue. "Do not assume I would be so foolish as to be trapped by such magic."

Beside Nyx, Entreri snorted, and the monk wondered at the assassin's reaction. She couldn't dwell upon it, however, because she caught sight of Tai inching up behind Jarlaxle, obviously intending to be the first in battle. Although Nyx knew the priest had been fighting criminals by himself for years, she still had to restrain the urge to stop him.

"If you consider the divine might of Sseth insignificant," Mordecai replied with a smirk, "perhaps I should give you a demonstration."

Jarlaxle whipped out a wand before Mordecai could begin casting and released a lightning bolt at the half-snake. However, the cleric didn't even flinch. The _Kagaor ki Tamal_ absorbed the lightning, and then Mordecai cast his spell. At the foot of the ramp, a red circle drew itself upon the flagstones.

Jarlaxle cursed and rushed toward the altar, vaulting onto the ramp and aiming a second blast at Mordecai. Tai ran after the drow, sprinting past the summoning circle and starting up the ramp.

Neither Nyx nor Entreri followed, both focusing their attention upon the spell unfolding before them. The monk clenched her jaw and held fast to her nunchaku, watching the flaming ring grow. Red light poured like blood between the cracked stone and seeped into tiny crevasses until it looked as though the ground would melt. Then, the floor seemed to collapse into a pit of fire. Searing air, smoke, and flames gushed into the chamber, and a nightmarish creature climbed out of the abyss. Blood and slime seeped from the demon's taunt skin, running over a thinly-muscled skeleton and dripping from the demon's claws. It roared, revealing rows of pointed teeth, and then glared at Nyx with red eyes set back into a horned skull. Behind the demon, the portal vanished, leaving remnants of heat and ash in the chamber.

"Any ideas?" Entreri asked dryly.

"One." Nyx snapped her nunchaku before her. "Kill it before it kills us."

* * *

When Tai saw the monster that towered over Entreri and Nyx, he immediately turned away from Mordecai and started back down the ramp, knowing that holy magic would best assist in the demon's defeat. However, before he ran more than a few steps, he paused, remembering that his greatest duty was to serve retribution to Mordecai and destroy the mirror. Uttering a prayer for the assassin and monk, Tai pivoted and marched with grim determination toward the altar, but his vision was obscured by the ash and smoke which had risen from the summoned portal.

Tai covered his nose with his cloak and inched forward, but he was forced to retreat when he succumbed to fits of coughing. After taking several breaths of clean air, he mentally filed through his divine spells, searching for something to dispel the smoke. Raising his right hand, he touched his thumb and middle finger together, beginning his casting, only to be interrupted by a heavy impact upon the ground.

Shaken, Tai concentrated on the curtain of smoke before him, catching sight of a dark form several times his size.

_A snake,_the priest reasoned, thinking back to the two carcasses lying on the floor below. _Mordecai has used the mirror to summon another snake._

Tai shivered, imaging a massive reptile rearing back to strike him. Facing the smoke, he steepled his fingers before his chest and drew Hoar's power into his hands. Snapping his wrists outward, Tai directed a magical blast at the snake as it sprung from its cover. The blue energy lance ripped open the snake's stomach, spraying a thin line of blood through the air.

The snake shuddered, then coiled into a striking position. Apparently Tai's attack had failed to mortally wound the creature. A sheen of cold sweat broke upon the priest's forehead, for the snake could move faster and easier on the incline than he could. Once again, Tai faced danger on his own, without Nyx or even the stealth that his uncle had taught him. But what could Tai truly fear when he had Hoar's support?

At that thought, a surge of divine energy pulsed through Tai's body, and the priest tapped it. Hoar was with him, had always been with him—and now, when he needed it most, he had not been betrayed. With that assurance and the faces of his friends in his mind, the priest charged the serpent, the divine power again forming at his fingertips.

* * *

Jarlaxle faced Mordecai, his would-be assassin and the attempted usurper of Bregan D'aerthe, and stared at him with a malice he showed few others. The drow mercenary had long since learned that people were far more unnerved by his cheerful, smiling demeanor, but the mad snake-like creature before him was unimpressed. Jarlaxle, despite his trickster streak, felt satisfied with the option of revealing the depth of his hate.

"Such burning red eyes," Mordecai taunted. "Have you come to punish me for trying to steal your band of foolish males from you? Or for the violence I rained on all your pets?"

"I suffer fools only so long as they don't interfere with my business," Jarlaxle replied, stowing his wand and drawing another.

"What business would that be?" the cleric asked. "Building a new mercenary band among _humans_? I'm still waiting for you to tell me what madness you've contracted to make you associate with such _iblith._ To rely upon them? Converse with them? Fight beside them? Of the two of us, you are the one who deserves ridicule."

Jarlaxle flicked the wand with his wrist, unleashing an acidic fog upon Mordecai, but the cleric wasn't the only one to be burned. While Jarlaxle kept clear of the acid, he was faintly stung by the drow-snake's words, although he didn't stop to consider the reaction.

Mordecai launched himself from the acidic cloud and aimed a roundhouse punch at Jarlaxle's head. The elf ducked, but his legs collapsed beneath him, his energy suddenly draining from him. The mercenary hit the ground and forced himself into a roll in order to clear the mirror's radius. As he came to his feet, Jarlaxle instantly understood the extent of his danger: more than lightning strikes or snakes, the elf had to fear the mirror's power to drain his life force. In that moment, Jarlaxle was glad that he had perfected several forms of long range attacks.

Backing further away, the drow pumped several dozen daggers at the approaching Mordecai, who swayed and dodged much like a charmed snake. Three of the daggers hit home, piercing one arm and his lower torso, but the cleric merely yanked them free.

"The mirror still has at least one advantage," Mordecai said, the gleam in his eyes betraying his lust for violence. "There is no damage you can do that it cannot fix by draining your life force. While you fling your small blades at me, I'll be busy ripping out your intestines!"

Jarlaxle narrowed his eyes. It was like fighting Entreri and his vampiric dagger, except no strike was necessary. Reaching for one of his necklaces, the elf rubbed a dragon pendant fixed upon the chain and grinned as an anti-magic zone formed around him. The protective field would move with Jarlaxle's body, and it offered his best chance at defeating Mordecai.

The mercenary knew that Mordecai could detect his use of magic, but he also understood that the cleric was unable to discern what kind. As Jarlaxle expected, Mordecai frowned and touched the frame of the circular mirror upon his chest. Brilliant white lightning shot from the mirror's surface only to disappear before reaching the mercenary.

Jarlaxle knew it would take more than magic or strategy to defeat the cleric and his mirror, but he remained confident that he had enough tricks to achieve his goal.

* * *

Entreri ducked the demon's swipe, barely dodging the talons, and cursed. Although he didn't recognize the monster, he held no illusions about the strength of his opponent. The assassin reversed his grip upon Charon's Claw so he could more easily strike the demon's ribs as he circled behind it.

Kill it before it kills us, Nyx had said, and Entreri found the assessment practical, if challenging. Even now the monk worked around to the demon's opposite side, her face showing nothing but resolve. Her auburn hair had started to fall from its braid, and the heat and moisture in the room sent beads of sweat down her face.

Without warning, the demon attacked. Claws flashing, it darted sideways, seeming to blur, disappear, then reappear behind the monk as she moved. Entreri shouted a warning, but Nyx had already reacted. The monk brought her right fist up in a vicious uppercut, simultaneously using her left hand to bury shuriken in the demon's chest. The monster screamed and lashed at her with its claws, but Nyx dodged the blow.

Taking advantage of the demon's preoccupation, Entreri launched himself onto the demon's back. Sword and dagger cut through the bone, and the monster screamed, shaking itself so hard that Entreri was almost thrown off. He grunted, holding onto his weapons tightly; blood and slime flew past him to strike the ground with a hiss.

"Great," Entreri snarled, pulling his weapons free of the acidic substance in preparation to dismount. However, he was saved from the trouble when the demon lurched to the side. The monster phased and disappeared, leaving Entreri hanging onto nothing. The assassin tucked his head into his chest and absorbed the impact by rolling when he hit the ground.

To his side, Nyx had already taken position again, ready with another pair of shuriken. She glanced up towards the ramp, which was covered in smoke. "We've got to help them. Mordecai could have them cornered."

"Priorities first," Entreri said darkly. "Strike the demon carefully; its slime is acidic." He glanced down at his weapons, which dripped with demon blood, and snapped his wrists, flinging the damaging fluids away. "And be careful of the demon's teleportation, lest part of you go with the monster. Use magical weapons if you have them."

"That would be my fists," the monk replied as a black cloud suddenly flashed into existence behind her. "Or my feet!" With almost inhuman speed, Nyx spun and swept up a leg. The roundhouse kick struck home, emptying a burst of green ki into the demon's skull. The monk moved so fast that her foot was gone before the acid could penetrate her boots.

Moving in tandem, Entreri intercepted the demon before it could teleport again, slashing Charon's Claw in a horizontal strike that sliced off one of the monster's arms. Instantly, the assassin reversed his momentum, cutting the blade backward and then upward to sever a horn.

The demon howled and flailed its remaining arm at the assassin. Something akin to lightning lanced out from its broken skull, striking the cloud that separated the two hemispheres of the room. The swirling smoke froze in the air, then shattered like glass and fell to the flagstones.

For the first time since the group had been separated, Entreri was able to see to the altar. Halfway up the ramp, Tai rained bursts of magical energy at a large snake, which was burnt and bleeding. Upon the platform, Jarlaxle was embroiled in a battle with Mordecai, and he was fast losing ground, his strength apparently being drained by the mirror.

A pulse of concern, much like the one Entreri had experienced when Socor had aimed his deadly spell at Jarlaxle, punched the assassin square in the sternum. There was no time to waste. Entreri and Nyx had to finish the demon quickly or his friend would be killed.

* * *

Jarlaxle swallowed a curse as he circled the altar. For a moment, he considered stepping back off the platform, but if the _Kagaor ki Tamal_ drained the magic from him, he would fall to his death. The anti-magic protection he had summoned had only made the mirror stronger, for it had absorbed the energy of the spell. The elf had tried several magical items, including those that evoked lightning, energy missiles, and even one that caused nightmarish illusions, but the mirror had soaked up the power each time. Jarlaxle had quickly determined that the only spell that might work against the mirror was one that drained energy, but he had no means of casting it.

Faced with the inability to use magic, Jarlaxle aimed another hail of daggers at the approaching Mordecai, but as before, the damage was short-lived. Mordecai coiled his lower body and jumped upon the altar itself, effectively cornering Jarlaxle against the wall. "You cannot defeat me," the cleric taunted. "I will bathe in your blood, and your life force will become my strength!"

"You mean Sseth's strength," the elf replied, but he was dismayed to find his voice breathless. He drew a small amethyst from one pocket and held it before him. The gem, which the drow had picked up from the temple's treasure, was inlaid with silver etchings. Jarlaxle hadn't had much time to ascertain its full strength, but he had determined that the gem channeled divine power. Perhaps, in light of the situation, divine magic was the only force which would work against the mirror.

The elf evoked the item's magic, and a lavender swirl of energy whipped the air between Mordecai and him. The energy solidified into a gleaming wall of whirling blades, which created a deadly barrier the cleric could not pass.

Mordecai laughed and approached the blades, but although the mirror's surface flashed several times, the barrier remained. Jarlaxle cackled and shot several dozen daggers at the cleric through the gaps in the barrier. Believing Mordecai to be slowed, the elf then turned to jump from the platform, planning to levitate to the floor and rejoin his companions.

However, the blades shattered into a whirlwind that was sucked into the _Kagaor ki Tamal_ like a miniature purple tornado, and in that instant, Jarlaxle felt the increased energy drain from the mirror. Suddenly weak, the elf fell against the wall with a thud, and he faced the leering countenance of Mordecai. Perhaps he should still try to jump, but either option promised death.

Unused to the concept of failure, Jarlaxle's mind continued to scramble for another choice. Divine magic did have an effect, but to defeat the mirror, it would have to be far more powerful than Jarlaxle's trinkets. He would need a formidable and special magic to destroy the artifact.

Mordecai slithered closer still, and Jarlaxle found himself slipping down the wall. Quickly, quickly, he had to think of a strategy before he lost consciousness . . .

* * *

Tai reached deep into his essence, once more drawing upon the divine power burning within his soul. Arching his fingers toward the snake that reared to strike him, the priest released a bolt of bluish lightning that pierced the creature's chest and threw it backward. Of all the battles the priest had fought, whether against wizards, murders, or rapists, Tai had never accessed Hoar's power to this extent. The young man felt as though the god were standing by his side, guiding his spells and keeping his mind free of fear. The priest felt so infused with Hoar's might that he believed he could kill the snake with a single touch should the chance arise.

Recovering, the wounded snake coiled, fangs bared, and moved to strike again. Not hesitating, Tai raised both hands and called upon Hoar's strength. A pulse of blue energy knocked into the snake, and it fell forward, too injured to continue its attack.

Tai drew one dagger, and when the snake thudded to the ground, he lunged forward, thrusting the blade into the creature's eye. He struck twice more, holding the snake's head still by bracing a foot against its skull. Once the snake's body shuddered under the weight of death, Tai withdrew his blade and thanked his god for the victory.

But Tai could not rest yet. The smoke had cleared, and the priest could see Entreri and Nyx still fighting the demon. However, of more concern was Jarlaxle, who was slumped upon the altar's platform, looking weak and drained.

Tai understood the truth too clearly. Mordecai had no control of or defense against the magical artifact that now possessed him, and the mirror itself would consume the life force of everything in its path: people, animals, plants, perhaps the earth itself. At the least, everyone Tai loved would die. At the most, all of Faerun might be destroyed. It might take years for the destruction to take place, and perhaps the mirror would exhaust its magic before the land was laid bare, but the possibility could not be allowed.

The spirit of Hoar, which abided in Tai's heart, moved within the cleric's chest. The young man could hear the whispering in his mind, feel the warmth of divine power race from his heart to his fingertips. The assurance was wordless yet tangible; Tai could feel the force of Hoar's conviction. The priest had to act. This perverted creature who had pursued evil for evil's sake, this twisted being who was guilty of torture, murder, and rape, had to face retribution and die. And the _Kagaor ki Tamal_ had to be destroyed with him.

Hoar seemed to pour his power into Tai. Blood rushed into the priest's head, making him feel faint and dizzy and rendering him momentarily deaf. Tai could feel his pulse in his fingers, the heat emanating from his face, and he had to gasp for breath. For an instant, a blue glow seemed to light the room around him, and then the world stood still:

Entreri seemed to stop mid-swing, his sword frozen before the upraised arm of the dying demon. Nyx was hanging mid-air, her foot against the monster's spine. Jarlaxle's arm, caught in the action of an upward block, had been rendered immobile, and Mordecai was an unmoving statue, a snake reared back to strike the drow mercenary.

In that eternal moment, Tai seemed to see the entire room around him—every person, blood-spattered wall, scurrying rat, and dust mote.

And then the world moved. Suddenly, violently, time resumed in a blur as Tai ran to the top of the ramp and yelled. "Mordecai!"

The half-snake turned away from Jarlaxle and hissed at the priest, but Tai remained unfazed. He met Mordecai's gaze, unafraid, and knew that the drow could see the judgment and death in his eyes. Tai stepped boldly onto the platform, throwing out his right hand and invoking the name of his deity. The young man's voice filled the room as he spoke directly to the mirror:

"By the authority of Hoar, I command you to release your power!"

A blue-white ball of energy erupted from Tai's palm and struck the mirror strapped to Mordecai's chest. The energy bloomed, mushrooming outward into a blinding globe of light that pierced every corner of the room. Tai could hear his companions screaming in pain, but he couldn't look away, nor could he lower his arm. Although he could not see it, Tai felt the strand of energy connecting him to the mirror. The two powers wrestled, thrashed against one another. Streaks of black lightning shot through the blue-white globe and struck the walls.

With each tendril of lightning, Tai felt a gash open upon his body—a rip on his shoulder, a cut on his face. Blood streaked down his cheek. The pain returned a portion of his self-control, and he knew he could choose to lower his arm, to stop the attack.

But he wouldn't. He understood that the clash of divine power, which was being conducted partially through him, would kill him, but he also realized that his friends would die unless he succeeded. And in that moment Tai saw, above all others, the face of Artemis Entreri, and the priest didn't care that the man had been an assassin. Didn't care about even one of Entreri's many crimes. Salvation comes at a price, and Tai now understood that the price was death.

Tai's heart seemed to jump, causing a flash of pain to shoot through his chest and into his left arm. A wave of nausea and dizziness washed through him, but still he offered his body as a conduit for Hoar's divine power. Although the stunning light blinded the priest, he faintly registered the sounds of yelling.

A second pain shot through Tai's chest, and Tai gasped, suddenly short for breath. The skin of his palm burned, a searing agony. The priest could taste blood in his mouth, could feel tears on his cheeks. "My god," he called out, the whispered prayer more of a gasp in his throat.

_Salvation is not rational,_ he thought weakly. _Salvation is love . . . _

* * *

Artemis Entreri was the first to recover and react. Not because he could see, not because he wasn't in pain, and not because he knew what to do. No, the assassin reacted because his will was greater than his body, his determination more solid than life itself. Artemis Entreri reacted because he knew Tai would die, and his very soul beat against his ribs with the demand that the self-sacrifice be stopped.

Eyes closed against the brilliant blue-white light, Entreri slashed the demon one last time, then glanced about just long enough to locate the ramp. Painfully, the assassin ran to the altar, pushing through the nearly tangible energy and accepting the burning sensation against his skin.

Oddly, Entreri could _feel_ Tai's presence, sense his closeness. Stowing his dagger, the assassin reached out with his left hand, grasping a disturbingly wet shoulder, and shoved the priest with every iota of his strength. Expecting the inevitable magical resistance, Entreri applied all his weight, all his will, reached within the core of his essence and pushed with his soul. The priest's body seemed to push back for an instant, and then suddenly they were tumbling, collapsing onto the platform in a heap. The blinding light abruptly vanished, stunning the room's occupants.

Entreri opened his eyes and glanced at the boy crumpled beneath him. Tai was unconscious, deathly pale, and covered in burns and blood. An unfamiliar fear pierced Entreri like a dagger between his ribs. Jumping to his feet, he whirled upon Mordecai, knowing he had to kill the abomination while the mirror was weakened. And he had to do it quickly so that Tai could be attended to.

The twisted creature before him was weaving drunkenly, as if his balance had forsaken him. Mordecai's eyes had rolled back into his head, and he hissed softly as he shook himself, obviously trying to regain his senses. Seeing his only opportunity, Entreri lunged forward, striking out with Charon's Claw and refusing to think of the consequences.

In his life, Artemis Entreri had never so endangered himself for another. And yet, in that moment, the assassin could not, would not, weigh the costs of his action, regardless of the outcome. With a single, precise strike, Entreri drove the tip of his sword through the center of the mirror and straight through Mordecai's sternum. The initial cracking sound seemed to resonate in the assassin's skull.

A moment of unnatural silence filled the room. Mordecai's eyes rolled forward, wide with surprise and pain, and Entreri relished in his suffering. Then Jarlaxle gasped, and Nyx screamed. The noises then died, leaving Entreri with the sound of his own breathing.

From the corner of his consciousness, Entreri became slowly aware of a high-pitched shrieking, but several moments lapsed before the assassin realized it was his sword. Charon's Claw seemed to scream—a metallic sound, a vibration the assassin could feel in his arm and chest. Then the scream warped into shrill ringing, and streaks of black lightning raced up the red blade from the mirror to Entreri's gauntlet. A burning pain lanced through the assassin's hand and wrist.

The sentient sword seemed to glow a brighter shade of red as the lightning crackled up the blade, and sparks flew to bounce across the floor before dying. Entreri's muscles twitched from the discharge, and his entire body began to shake. With the sound of the mirror further cracking, however, Entreri knew he had to hold on. The sword was eating the mirror's essence, destroying its power and consuming Mordecai's soul as well. The drow's facial muscles convulsed, the scaly skin smoldered.

Smoke rose from the gauntlet as more black lightning raced up the sword's blade, and a pain shot through Entreri's body to stab his back. He instinctively arched his spine, crying out in pain, and then gritted his teeth. Within seconds, the assassin felt blood trace down his upper lip from his nose.

Then, suddenly, the sword was torn from his grasp. The cracked mirror was sucking it in, swallowing it, and Charon's Claw spewed ash as it lashed out against the arrogant magical artifact that sought to defeat it.

Knowing he had to release the energy stored in the gauntlet, Entreri aimed his palm at the mirror. Streaks of black lightning erupted from the gauntlet, striking the mirror. The combined attack of the lightning and the sword was more than the weakened artifact could handle. A whishing sound filled the room, almost like a sudden intake of breath, and then the _Kagaor ki Tamal_ shattered to millions of pieces, flinging shards of glass outward. The magical explosion tore into Mordecai's body, ripping it limb from limb and splattering the far wall with blood, flesh, and bone.

Entreri threw up his arm to shield his face, and he felt the slivers of glass bury themselves into his arm. However, his ignored the pain and rushed to Tai's side.

The priest was drenched in blood from dozens of gashes, and the brightness of the red threw the paleness of Tai's face into stark relief. Entreri pushed the young man onto his back and noted immediately that the priest's lips were blue. Blisters and burns covered Tai's entire right hand and arm, and his brown eyes stared sightlessly at the ceiling.

"Tai?" Entreri forced himself to remain calm and held his hand over the priest's nose.

Not breathing.

"Tai?" Entreri's voice grew a notch louder, a touch sterner. _I must stay calm,_ he thought, reaching out to check the priest's neck.

No pulse.

"Tai?" A notch louder still. The assassin shook the young man's shoulder.

No response.

_Dead,_ Entreri's mind supplied. _You've seen hundreds of dead bodies. Created hundreds of dead bodies. It's obvious. Tai is—_

"Tai!" Entreri yelled. He didn't see, couldn't hear the rushing footsteps behind him. Desperate, the assassin tried to mimic something he'd seen before on several of his many trips by sea. He grasped the back of Tai's head, pinched his nose closed, and covered his mouth, forcing air into the priest's lungs.

_Breathe,_ Entreri demanded silently. _You must live!_

A warm sensation seemed to transfer from Tai's body to Entreri's lips, and the assassin lifted his head. A weary Jarlaxle was kneeling on Tai's other side, holding his orb of healing over Tai and chanting. Nyx, her face streaked with tears, sat beside the drow, clenching her fists and biting her lip. The assassin paused, concerned that a simple magical healing device wouldn't be powerful enough to resuscitate Tai.

"Keep breathing into him!" the monk cried.

Not about to argue, Entreri resumed his efforts, but the body below him remained still. In desperation, the assassin lashed out at Hoar. _This priest has served you well,_ Entreri thought at the god. _Why won't you spare him!_

Jarlaxle suddenly grabbed the assassin by the shoulder and pulled him away. Coming to his knees, the drow raised his fist and punched Tai in the chest, directly over his heart.

With a sudden, choked gasp, the priest inhaled, then coughed. Nyx burst into sobs, and Entreri, in an attempt to control his emotions, clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached.

Tai opened his eyes blearily but didn't focus his gaze upon anyone. "Power Hoar mirror," he mumbled incoherently. "Power light god." He blinked slowly several times, and then his brow creased. "Artemis? Nyx?"

The assassin reached down and slid his arm under Tai's small shoulders, propping him up. The priest, exhausted, leaned against Entreri's chest.

"Entreri," the priest said, as if in confirmation. "We won?"

"We won," the assassin said, the words thick. "The mirror is destroyed, and Mordecai is dead."

"You hurt?" Tai asked.

"Not badly," Entreri lied. "I'll live," he continued more truthfully.

"Nyx?" the priest continued in a croak of a voice. His eyes remained unfocused, so Jarlaxle began chanting again.

"I'm here," the monk answered, her words choked from her tears, "and I'm fine. Please, don't talk. Jarlaxle is fine, too. You just need to rest."

"I can't see," Tai whispered.

"I know," Nyx replied, taking a deep breath as if to steady herself. "I think you looked right into that brilliant light you unleashed." She grasped the priest's hand.

Entreri frowned. "Yes, you fool. You should have known better. Now be still and let Jarlaxle heal you."

Tai closed his blinded eyes and relaxed. "Yes, sir."

Entreri stared at the frail priest, struck by his simple trust and obedience, and for once he saw a place in the world for friendship—a compassion that didn't result in death, after all. The space for such loyalty was tiny, but it was a crack wide enough to shine light into the darkness.

"If you die on me, I'll kill you," Entreri whispered.

Tai smiled.


	6. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Tai awakened, disoriented, to the sounds of laughter, a purring cat, and the chirping of birds. The priest felt sunlight upon his face, smelled daisies and lilacs, and sensed a nearby presence. However, he refused to open his eyes, afraid of what he would—or wouldn't—see.

"How long did I sleep?" the priest asked.

"A day and a half," the deep voice of Entreri answered.

Tai frowned, certain that the sheets he felt under his fingertips and the hubbub he heard in the distance meant that they were in an inn. "Where are we?"

"In Olostin's Hold."

Tai heard the sound of a chair scraping the floor, then felt the shadow fall across his face as Entreri leaned over him. "How did we get back so quickly?" the priest asked.

"Jarlaxle," Entreri replied, as if no further explanation were needed.

Tai considered the drow's possible resources and decided that further questions on the subject were, indeed, pointless. "How bad do I look?" he asked with a small smile.

"You could look worse," the assassin said. "Jarlaxle worked on you, and Nyx brought in some cleric she knew. She also bought healing potions and poured them down your throat. She's barely left your side. I had to knock her out in order to make her rest."

The priest's smile widened at the thought that Nyx had stayed by him. "You jest," he said.

A long pause. "No," came that serious voice. "I do not. I hit her square in the temple."

Tai shook his head, imaging a furious redhead. "She'll get you for that."

A small snort. "She'll try, but she'll fail." Another pause. "Aren't you going to open your eyes?"

Tai frowned, a pulse of fear rippling through his body. "Are they healed?"

"If not, they will be. The cleric said you were flash-blinded and your eyes will recover in time."

Encouraged by this information, Tai opened his eyes. The world about him was bright with color, but bleary. "It's a bit blurry."

A form leaned over Tai. "Give it time. The cleric will be back later to check on you."

Tai nodded and tried to take comfort in the words. He focused as best he could upon the dark shape by his bed. "You saved me. I know it was you. Thank you."

"No," the assassin said quietly. "My efforts alone would not have revived you. As for Mordecai, my attack would not have worked if you had not weakened the mirror."

So, Entreri had both stopped his attack and finished off Mordecai himself. "I might have been able to destroy the mirror alone," he said, pointing out the obvious.

"At the cost of your life," the assassin replied, as though that answer summed up everything. And, perhaps, it did.

Tai heard the shuffling of paper, and he could tell Entreri was moving. Suddenly, a bright blue blob was placed on Tai's chest. A royal blue blob.

"I ordered this at the same time as the other," Entreri said, "but it wasn't ready before we left."

With a shaking hand, Tai reached up and touched the blue blob. Fine, sleek material greeted his fingertips. "A blue cloak," the priest said, the words choked by the sudden surge of his emotions.

"Complete with symbol of Hoar," Entreri confirmed. "Hurry up and get better so I can find out if it fits properly."

Tai laughed, but it came out as more of a sob. "Thank you."

"Please don't."

Tai smiled and closed his tear-filled eyes. He could hear the chair scraping on the floor again, although he didn't hear Entreri cross the floor.

"Rest more," the assassin ordered, and Tai could tell that he was near the door. "Jarlaxle is no doubt deep into planning further trouble for us to get into. You'll need your strength."

Tai laughed again, and then the click of the door announced Entreri's departure. The priest snorted, amused by the assassin's unrelenting stoicism. "I love you, too," Tai replied to the absent man, and he fell asleep with a small, wry smile upon his lips.

Regardless of whether Entreri was his "uncle," "older brother," or friend, Tai knew that he had found a kindred spirit.

* * *

Jarlaxle awaited Entreri at the end of the hallway. "You're smiling. I take it that the boy regained consciousness." 

The assassin immediately scowled. "No, I wasn't. And yes, he did."

The drow merely chuckled. "Nyx is awaiting us downstairs and has already ordered our food."

Entreri nodded and started down the hall with Jarlaxle.

"She also has some choice words for you over knocking her out," Jarlaxle continued, his eyes glittering with mirth.

"How can you say something so mundane and put a lewd undertone in it?" Entreri asked.

The drow skipped a few steps then turned back to face Entreri. "You're both fine warriors and stubborn as old dwarves. I think you'd make a lovely pair."

Entreri glared. "If I decided to find myself a lover, I'd pick one on my own. I do not require the interference of an overly nosey drow."

Jarlaxle grinned. "Are you sure? Your pursuit of the fine lady is proceeding rather slowly."

"I am quite sure," the assassin continued, giving the elf such a pointed look that Jarlaxle could have been telekinetically pinned to the wall. "And you've 'helped' me far too much already."

The drow had the grace to look contrite. "Ah . . . yes, well."

Entreri had never seen Jarlaxle stumble over words, so he simply remained silent and watched him.

"Nyx and I share an unfortunate trait," the elf began, "of overstepping our bounds on occasion, especially as it concerns assassins and priests . . ."

The assassin lifted an eyebrow. "That would be the understatement of the millennium."

Jarlaxle smiled again and raised a finger. "Although I am unconvinced that one with as much willpower as you could actually be manipulated—unless, of course, you allowed it for your own purposes."

Entreri drew up parallel to the elf and matched his gaze. "You'd best reconsider your suicidal tendencies." He frowned. "Either way, one truth remains: Tai and I are perfectly able to take care of ourselves, and all decisions—both personal and business—will be run past the both of us in advance."

Jarlaxle tipped his hat, acknowledging both the blunt truth of that statement and the threat it contained. "As you say." He followed Entreri as the man headed for the stairs. "And while we're on the subject, after we return to the ruins to collect more gold, gems, and weapons, I have some delicious thoughts on a few excursions for us to consider."

Entreri glanced sideways at the mercenary. "May the gods preserve us."

"If Tai has anything to do with it, Hoar will," the elf said. "And what a promising development that is, considering Hoar has already preserved Tai's life!"

Entreri snorted. "So it would appear." He started down the stairs and glanced out over the dining hall, where Nyx sat waiting at a corner table. He looked from the red head back to the drow and gave Jarlaxle half a smile. "Which means that maintaining the aid of such a blessed priest is mutually beneficial."

"Indeed," the elf replied.

Entreri shook his head and turned away. "You're incorrigible."

"But you, my friend, are not—at least, not entirely."

The assassin kept his back to the elf, but his dry tone said all that needed to be said: "Don't make me hurt you."

* * *

. 

_Author's Notes: _

If you enjoyed my story, please leave at least one review for me since I don't get paid for this. (smile)

To everyone who read and those who have already reviewed—thank you. You enable me to continue writing. Also, thank you to those who either faved this story or added me to your fav author's list.

Answers to Questions:_  
Yes, the poem in the story is mine. _

No, I haven't forgotten Jarlaxle's promise to tell Tai about his mentor, Tebryn Pharn. The story will be told.

Thank yous:_  
A big hug to Darkhelmet, who not only betaread the story but helped by penning parts or wholes of three of the five fight scenes. Everyone should thank her for helping me because she put in a lot of effort and she totally saved my time-limited, exhausted butt. Then you should tell her how well she did. _

Thank you to Rezuri and Euphorbic, who betaread parts and wholes of chapters as well.

My appreciation goes to the following, who gave me suggestions and ideas throughout the series: (in alphabetical order) Alzadea, Darkhelmet, Dr. L, Euphorbic, Matt, Rezuri, Silverwolf, and Zachee.

I also want to thank the following people for fanart: Rezuri, Rufio/Bloodyrazor, Drizzt-D, Delly, and Denden. The work of Rezuri, Bloodyrazor, and Drizzt-D can be found at Deviant Art, and Denden's can be found at Lavender Eyes.

Future stories:_  
No promises, but this is what I'm planning: a third installment of "Of Music and Men;" a shorter story involving Entreri's time spent in Menzoberranzan; and a third trilogy which has been tentatively entitled "The Power of Prophecy." Due to increasingly difficult school work, my future fanfics will come at a much slower rate, but Entreri, Jarlaxle, Tai and Nyx will return!_


End file.
